


Blood Bond: Summit

by Talonticus



Series: Blood Bond [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, F/F, Gen, Humor, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, OC-centric, Occasional violence, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 45,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talonticus/pseuds/Talonticus
Summary: An historic event is coming up. For the first time in ages, the humans and the charr are on the verge of creating a peace treaty, a document that might end a war which has persisted for over 250 years, since the fall of Ascalon.The location for the first meeting has been decided, in an area north of the Stronghold of Ebonhawke, the last remnant of the eastern human nation. To make sure that the negotiations proceed accordingly, both sides have sent some of their most important officials, with Tribune Rytlock Brimstone representing the High Legions and Baron Cramon Lartus - one of Queen Jennah's chief diplomats - representing Kryta.Unfortunately, trouble is brewing in the distance, and the shadows are moving to intercept. There are those who do not wish to see this treaty be signed.After the success at Folly's Breach, the members of the Blood Bond guild know that they must act to preserve the only potential for future peace.





	1. Blood of heroes

**Author's Note:**

> **Main characters:** Sovica Vlasic (Female Human Elementalist OC), Razok Cogfang (Male Charr Engineer OC), Daeynwe (Female Sylvari Thief/Warrior OC), Rea Svalen (Female Norn Ranger OC), Katla Svalen (Female Norn Guardian OC), Ovillus (Male Asura Necromancer OC)  
>  **Secondary characters:** Cragthea Slagmarrow (Female Charr Guardian OC), Veilidh (Female Sylvari Pact Commander),  
>  **Minor characters:** Rytlock Brimstone, Warmaster Efut, Warmaster Smoketail, Magister Sieran, Baron Cramon Lartus (Male Human OC), Virtug Flamepaw (Male Charr Thief OC)
> 
> _Hello there! My name is Claire Talon, or Talonticus, and here's another Blood Bond story._   
>  _Just like the last story, this one will have the same team, although now as a proper guild doing shit around Tyria. This is sort of their first adventure post-first fic._   
>  _This story won't be as long as the last, maybe somewhere between 15-20 chapters. I think each of the Blood Bond tales will probably be that long. And yes, I have several. It's a kind of journey, I guess._   
>  _I've changed the title of the last one, to add the subtitle "Forged in turmoil". Obviously, this new story, which you can probably see, is called "Summit". With the summary, I think it's be obvious what it's about._
> 
> _I know there's a book that deals with the background for why the summit happens - the Ghosts of Ascalon - and while I have not read that one, I am sort of ignoring parts of its story. I think that one happens in 1324 AE, but for the purposes of this fic, it occurs earlier. The team who retrieved the item in that one still performs their job, although it is the humans who hold it at the start, ready to deliver it to the charr. You'll see more later._
> 
> _While the whole guild is in it, Sovica and Razok will have slightly more prominent roles here, due to their connections. However, as Veilidh - my official Pact Commander (this is before she got the title) - will make an appearance, Daeynwe will also get some content._   
>  _Just like you might see in the character list, there will also be an appearance from Rytlock here, although not as big as Eir's was in the last one. Guess the summary might reveal what his role is._
> 
> _I've updated[the character list](https://creativebankruptcies.blogspot.com/2018/12/guild-wars-2-characters.html) on my blog, if you want to see some stuff, like their appearances and profiles. There are also a bunch of secondary characters mentioned there now, but don't worry too much about them. Obviously, the armors on the pictures aren't necessarily what they actually wear, but I will try to describe that in the story._   
>  _Note: This fic stars a black woman as a protagonist. I'm a white writer, so I welcome any feedback from fans of color regarding her._
> 
> _Anyway, I hope you enjoy it._

_Late 1323 AE – Stronghold of Ebonhawke, Fields of Ruin, Ascalon_

Winter has come to Tyria. For many people and nations across the continent, that can mean different things, from preparing feasts for Wintersday and playful snowy activities, to harsh outdoor military posts and rationing one’s available resources. It has both good and bad connotations, but a lot of people at least know what it signifies, and there’s no difference down within the sturdy walls of Ebonhawke.

By the outposts close to the gates, the guards stationed here sit and watch their surroundings rather nonchalantly, even if their jobs can often get dangerous. The reason for their current boredom and annoyance is partially due to the fairly cold and foggy day, but also because they know very little will happen. There’s no patrols out at this time and the charr almost never attack the fortress in this type of weather. It’ll just be a waste of resources for them, which is preferable for the humans, but also rather uninteresting. Winter rarely looks aesthetically pleasing in this region of the world, as they don’t often get snow, and it’s not improved much by being forced to watch it.

For the soldiers by the northern gate, this lack of activity is suddenly interrupted when they all notice how something happens down on the road. A few figures distinguish themselves among the fog, seemingly coming straight for the fortress in quite a normal walking pace.  
The only Sergeant stationed in this section of the wall hurries over to a young private, seeing how she’s holding onto a spyglass.

“Report, Private. What do you see?”, he asks.

She narrows her only open eye as she pushes the items closer to her face and surveys the people that come out of the shadows.  
“Uh, looks like a human, a norn and…a sylvari? They walk pretty casually, like they're just on a stroll.”

The Sergeant raises his eyebrow confusedly, before he turns his eyes out towards them, even if they’re still hundreds of meters away.  
“What? What kind of party is that? We don’t still have any patrols out there, do we?”

She slowly shakes her head.  
“No, sir, not that I know of.”

“Hmm”, he emits and rubs his chin in thought. “This human, what do they look like?”

“Seems like a woman of some kind, fairly young. Dark brown complexion, short lighter brown hair, pretty decent quality travelling clothes, but no markings of any faction that I can recognize.”

“Armed?”

The Private tilts her head, likely focusing on more than one point.  
“Not the human, but the norn and sylvari are. The norn has a pretty big hilt of a greatsword poking out from her back and I can spot blades from the sylvari’s belt.”

The Sergeant continues to appear suspicious and unsure.  
“Something doesn’t smell right about this…”

After lowering her tool, the Private looks at him.  
“Don’t want me to open the gates then, sir?”

“Not yet. Let’s see what these figures have to say for themselves.”

Once the trio has almost reached the wall, the guards get a slightly better look of them. The human does indeed appear to be fairly young and quite beautiful as well, especially when she smiles, which is her current expression.  
The sylvari that stays close to her side has purple skin with brown highlights and red short leaves as hair, which dances around in the wind. She wears a dark green jacket, but it’s obvious she has leather armor beneath.  
The light-skinned norn with long black hair is clearly the most intimidating out of them all and it’s not just due to her race. Compared to the curvier stature of the human and the toned one of the sylvari, this woman is exceedingly tall and muscular, noticeable even while dressed in chain mail armor with a dark blue coat covering it. A somewhat gruesome scar runs diagonally down from her left cheek over her chin and down to her neck. She looks like the type of person that could potentially bash the gates open with her hands, if she wanted to.

“Halt!”, the Sergeant calls out to them from a hatch somewhat further up.  
“This is the human Stronghold of Ebonhawke! State your identities and business for coming here.”

In return, the human below smiles up at him quite charmingly.  
“Greetings. My name is Sovica, from Kryta. We are travelers and wonder if we could possibly gain entrance. We are rather tired after having walked for so long and would be very grateful if you could allow us the opportunity to rent one of the rooms in your inn.”

If she hoped that would convince him, it doesn’t seem to have been enough.  
“Alright, and the rest? Who are your companions and where are they from?”

The Sergeant is looking especially suspicious of Katla, which perhaps isn’t so surprising.  
“Ah, of course. This is Katla Svalen and Daeynwe. They are my friends and we represent a guild called Blood Bond.”

He merely snorts in return.  
“Never heard of it, and your names are unknown to me too. And you want to come inside?  
You realize we can’t really trust you, right? You haven’t scheduled your arrival and we have never seen you before.”

Sov tilts her head curiously.  
“We haven’t, admittedly, but is that really necessary? Does one always have to make preparations to enter a human city? That’s not the case in Divinity’s Reach.”

The Sergeant scoffs.  
“Yeah, well, you’re not in the Reach anymore, little lady. This is Ebonhawke, and we are surrounded by enemies. If you don’t somehow deliver a message before you arrive, or have someone to vouch for you, we can’t let you in, especially not when you come in this weather. You realize how creepy it looks that you’re walking straight through this fog, right?”

Angling herself to gaze at her companions, Katla merely shrugs, while Dae shakes her head.  
Eventually, Sov sighs and starts to push her hand down into her clothes.  
“Very well, perhaps I have something that can convince you.”  
Shortly after, she pulls out a necklace of some kind, with a sigil hanging from it. She displays it for the guards, which shows a golden bird spreading its majestic wings over a violet background.  
“I represent House Vlasic of the Broadhollow barony in Kryta. This sigil belongs to my family and with it, I hope to prove that I do not want to cause you any harm.”

Even if the Private seems to get calmer, the Sergeant still looks skeptical.  
“What, you think showing us some badge will be enough to prove who you are? I don’t even know that name!”

The woman next to him seem unsure.  
“Uh, Sarge…”

He doesn’t stop, however.  
“I don’t care who you think you are or how important you say that your name is! Just because you’re some foreign noble, that doesn’t give you the right to come in here. How do we know you aren’t just a mesmer anyway? That might be fake.”

It appears that Sovica doesn’t appreciate his tone nor his words, which he notes when she furrows her brow and clenches one of her hands.  
“Don’t you _dare_ speak that way about my family”, she says harshly. “Do you even know who they are? What they have done for this land?”

“This land? You said-“

Before he can even fire back at her, she raises her hand to point at him.  
“You and your soldiers are only able to stand on those walls because of people like my family! Have you not heard of Miljana Vlasic, the Ascendant hero? Or clan Vlasic that lived and guarded Regent Valley for over 200 years?!  
My family was well-respected and loved in Ascalon, and they helped to fight the charr with everything they had. After that, they escorted thousands of refugees over the Shiverpeaks, saving countless lives through selfless sacrifice.  
My family protected this nation, they fought for it even after its destruction and they died to save its remnants. You may not trust me, nor my companions, and that is fine, but _do not_ insult my family. You spit on the heart of Ascalon with such words.”

The fierceness of her arguments does not only shock the guards into silence, but makes Katla widen her eyes as well. The only one who doesn’t display surprise is Dae, who grins.  
After a few seconds, and some words from the Private, the Sergeant clears his throat, looking both hesitant and a bit guilty.  
“I uh…I may have spoken too soon. I didn’t quite realize who you were. I apologize, my lady. We’ll let you and your companions in.”  


* * *

  
It doesn’t take more than a few moments until the gates of Ebonhawke give off squeaking noises, as the metal and cogs within grind against themselves and reveal a small opening for the trio to use. As they begin to advance, Dae wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s waist and leans towards her, kissing her cheek. She looks immensely pleased.  
“That was…very hot, by the way. I kinda like that fire in you.”

Sov chuckles and seems just slightly embarrassed now that she calms down, but she naturally accepts the embrace.  
“Thank you. I pull it out for special occasions.”

Katla has folded her large arms as she walks to their side and snorts amusedly.  
“It was interesting. Those guards must’ve pissed their pants”, she says, speaking in a somewhat deeper tone than the shorter women.

The human returns her gaze with a fairly mischievous glint.  
“Good. Then at least they’ll remember my name.”

As they pass through the giant doors to the interior, they soon get to witness the visage within and the sight of the stronghold. The stories Sov had told them about this region did not quite do it justice, as it is more than a mere fortress. Except for the tall walls, there’s even taller buildings, houses, lots of people and decorative pieces.  
This settlement seems to be crafted in a circular fashion, which is why everything is arranged in several layers. The banners of Ebonhawke and Ascalon hang everywhere, and while it’s not super colorful, it’s still impressive.

Dae widens her eyes once they walk past the outer walls and gets a good view of it from some of the stairs.  
“Whoa, this is…very interesting. I didn’t think this would be an actual city!”

Sov smiles and corrects her violet cloak somewhat, after she has hidden her sigil once more.  
“Didn’t I tell you that? It looks very nice, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does! Oh, I want to check the market later.”

“From what I have heard it used to be a lot smaller, but has grown much during the last 200 years.”  
Raising her hand, she points towards the south.  
“When we get an opportunity, I believe it would be a good choice to go see Gwen and Jin’s graves. A few friends of mine in the Reach, who have been here in the past, said that any citizen or visitors are allowed to go there. As I’m the first Vlasic here in ages, I’d want to place some flowers and say a prayer to the Six.”

Dae smiles brightly at her and nods eagerly.  
“Yes! That sounds like a great idea. We should go right now!”

Unfortunately, they hear how Katla clears her throat, trying to prevent distractions.  
“Maybe later. We don’t have time right now. We should focus on progressing our mission.”

Even if she wants to give into Dae’s excitement, Sov nods as well.  
“You’re right. We didn’t come here to be tourists, after all. Let’s see if we can find where these people are staying.”

Approaching the center of the complex, starting from one of the major inns of this city, they locate the correct facility rather quickly. It appears that the group they were searching for has their temporary lodgings almost right next to it, which the guild spots through the representatives that stand outside, displaying the recognizable white symbols of the Vigil.  
After a small discussion by the door, the trio is welcomed inside and sees how even more individuals are stationed here. One of them is a red-haired asura with beige skin, dressed in blue and grey heavy armor. At this time, she is speaking to her comrades, while they listen intently.

Sov clears her throat once there is a gap in the asura’s speech, getting the attention from everyone around the tables.  
“Excuse me, are you Warmaster Efut?”

The asura arches her eyebrow somewhat, before she quickly surveys the small group.  
“That is correct. I don’t recognize you, though, or your companions.”

With a polite bow, Sov gestures for the others to mimic her, which they do.  
“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Sovica Vlasic. This is Daeynwe and Katla Svalen, my friends. We represent a newly formed guild called Blood Bond.  
We have heard that you intend to help start the peace talks between Divinity’s Reach and the High Legions of the charr.”

Efut seems somewhat skeptical, but she nods slightly anyhow and jumps off her tall chair, before she approaches them.  
“I’m not sure how exactly you have received this information, but it is accurate, lady Vlasic. Why do you ask?”

She offers the Warmaster a gentle smile.  
“Well, our guild has managed to attain certain rumors regarding how trouble might be brewing around this event. For various personal reasons, the success of your mission is paramount to us. We would like to offer you our assistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Obviously, Sovica rolled a natural 20 in persuasion on those guards_


	2. Proven steel

Winter, it really is a pain in the tail. At least that’s the opinion of many charr workers stationed in the Fields of Ruin, especially if you happen to be assigned to caravan duty. It can be quite a risky job to begin with, due to the fact that those people will have to go through regions where enemies might be hiding, but winter somehow makes it worse. Even if there’s not much snow around, there’s definitely cold and, worst of all, a thick fog.

If the caravan master had a choice, she would definitely not be taking her warband into this weather, even if their destination – Deathblade’s Watch – is in desperate need of supplies. She had tried to speak with her superiors, urged them to wait until it dissipates, but that wasn’t an option. The Watch welcomes anything it can get and it’s not the place of soldiers, least of all transporters, to question the orders they’re given. She would argue, of course, as it risks lives, but her superiors had insisted that they shouldn’t fear a bit of natural smoke. If only it was that simple.

After several hours since their last break, the caravan is now getting close to the Watch, being able to see the walls in the distance. The caravan master feels a sense of relief and like she can finally breathe out, but that is a mistake.  
“Harpies! Harpy attack incoming!”

Of course, there had to be something.  
Swooping down from the hills and trees nearby, the flying menace starts to shriek when they realize they’ve been detected, hoping to increase the intimidating factor, as they prepare both melee and ranged weapons. It takes a moment for the charr to get ready for it all, which means they suffer at least two casualties before they can even fight back.

Just as the caravan master fetches her axe and turns around, one of the harpy warrior flies towards her and she doesn’t know if she’ll be in time to deflect it. Fortunately, there never needs to be such a consideration.  
The harpy suddenly stops in midair and it starts to shiver, losing its breath. The charr watches in surprise and confusion, until she spots the stream of dark magic that is piercing her enemy, slowly draining and consuming it, until it can remain flying no more.

Following the magic to its source, she spots a much smaller creature than she anticipated. Standing in what appears to be a set of dark green clothes with golden edges is an asura. He has brown skin with ashen spots over his face and red hair in a short ponytail, as well as large ears and pale green eyes. Lifting his hand, he points it towards the other harpies and calls to them in a loud confident voice.  
“Come here, you feather-brained buffoons! If you want a real fight, perhaps you should turn your imbecilic craniums towards a more suitable hazard!”

After the asura just killed one of their warriors, that seems to have agitated the rest of its companions, and several of them swirl around to go fight the arrogant asura.  
The first one holds quite a large spear, which it aims drive right through him, but never gets that far. The noise of a rifle firing can be heard from the fog and a fierce shot hits the harpy right in its chest, making it tumble to the ground.

Shortly after, two arrows fly out from a similar location, hitting the abdomen of another harpy, and the head of a third. Lastly, when only one harpy remains, a large white-furred creature jumps out and descends on this final enemy. The big polar bear roars and slashes at its foe, tearing it down from the skies and then digs his large fangs into the body. It’s unclear whether he intends to simply kill it or devour it on the spot.

Many of the charr who were rescued watches this entire endeavor in shock, especially when they see the asura standing there with a smirk and his hands confidently at his hips.  
Stepping out from the fog comes two more people. One of them is a fairly average-sized charr with black and red striped fur, light grey eyes and four thorny horns that bends somewhat in opposite directions. He’s wearing yellow or orange leather gear, and holds onto a rifle that he is resting on his shoulder. A fairly heavy backpack also hangs behind him, filled with gadgets.  
Next to him strolls a woman who to some may resemble a human, but due to the size – even taller than him – is likely a norn. Her build is mostly quite toned, with light skin, red-black hair in a ponytail and blue eyes. She has triangular-lined black tattoos on her forehead and left cheek, while she wears a brown fur-lined leather armor, with a metallic snow leopard head on her right shoulder. She displays a confident smile as she grasps the bow in her hand.

Before the guards have even been able to arrive from the gates, the fight is over, and the rest of the harpies are already fleeing.  
Soon after, the caravan members erupt in cheers and some approaches the group that helped out. The guards from the gates give them nods in acknowledgement for their deeds.  
“That was amazing!”, the caravan master tells them. “Burn me, we didn’t expect any help like this, especially not out of nowhere. Thought those flying bastards had us for a while.  
I don’t recognize any of ya, but now I definitely wanna know who we owe our thanks to.”

It’s the charr from the trio who speaks up, while he holsters his gun.  
“Ah, just a bunch of passersby, really. Name’s Razok and these two are my pals, Rea and Ovillus.”  
Shortly after, they hear a growl nearby one of the harpy corpses, as the polar bear looks at Raz.  
“Oh, and Grawdr, of course. Sorry about that one, buddy.”

“Well, we owe you a big favor for saving our tails like that. If you’re up for it, once we’re done with our delivery, drinks are on us.”

Rea crosses her arms and smiles brightly.  
“Ooh, now that’s an offer we wouldn’t wanna turn down! Haven’t had a good charr drink in a while.”

Turning towards the guards, Raz gestures at his friends.  
“We were actually planning to go into town, if that’s alright. Haven’t prepared anything official, but we hope it’s not too much trouble.”

One of the soldiers looks at him with a small grin.  
“Hah, why’d you even ask? After that display, you can see yourselves as our guests. Come on in.”

“Much obliged!”  
They continue to help the caravan, escorting them through the gates to make sure that no other mishaps occur. Once they arrive, Raz gazes at the guards again.  
“By the way, there was another thing. We’ve heard that the Vigil is supposed to have a detachment around here somewhere. We’d like to have a chat.”

The soldier nods and raises one of his hands to point a claw towards the east.  
“Yep, they are. In that case, you’re looking for Warmaster Smoketail. He’s in one of those buildings at the back, close to our CO's quarters.”

After having been given some more thanks and made some promises that they’ll see the members of the caravan at the tavern later, the trio proceeds through the town, in order to find the Vigil group.  
All around them, they get to view the first sight of a larger charr town, at least as far as Rea’s experience goes and Ovillus have only been to the capital. The whole area is filled with smoke, iron and noise. Lots of charr, mostly soldier-types, wander over the streets and many workers operate the various factories and devices they utilize here.

Rea displays a small smile as she lets her eyes sweep their surroundings, with Grawdr wandering right next to her.  
“So, this is Deathblade’s Watch? Pretty interesting place, but the name sounds a bit excessive.”

Raz chuckles.  
“Haven’t you heard enough of our names by now to know that bluster is what we’re all about? Fighting hard isn’t the only way to let your enemy know that you mean business.”

The norn glances at him with a small smirk.  
“Tsk. Isn’t that the Ash Legion soldier in you talking? Not sure your Blood Legion pals would feel the same.”

“Hah! True enough.  
As for the Watch, it’s one of the biggest places in the Fields of Ruin, although the majority of the soldiers belong to Iron. This is where they’ve usually been launching attacks on Ebonhawke for the past…well, a lot of years, let’s say.  
If this plan that the higher-ups are forging goes well, I have a feeling that will change, though. Not sure what the troops will think. Peace is…a strange concept to many charr.”

Correcting her hair somewhat and making sure her ponytail is still intact, Rea looks at him with a more solemn gaze.  
“You don’t think it will succeed?”

His eyes turn somewhat contemplative, perhaps even hesitant.  
“I dunno yet. Gotta admit that I’m skeptical, anyway. I suppose we’ll see what will happen once the representative from the Black Citadel arrives.  
I also kinda wonder if Vlasic managed to get her group into Ebonhawke. She seemed confident before they left, but…”

Rea waves dismissively at the doubts.  
“Hey, I don’t wanna hear nonsense like that right now. We should trust in Sovi, as she definitely knows how to be persuasive, even more so with that lot.  
If anything, what I’m worried about is Katla’s presence.”

“Your sister? Why?”

“Well, by now, you’ve probably seen that she can be pretty…overwhelming. She’s not good with first impressions.”

Raz only has to think of any interactions he has had with her to get proof of this, before he chuckles.  
“You make a good point.”

Over on the other side of Rea, they hear how their much shorter friend speaks up.  
“Well, at the very least, I believe it was an adequate decision to omit your presence, Razok. I doubt the humans would’ve been particularly cordial when faced with your appearance.”

The charr snorts, but can’t argue.  
“Yeah, true, but I was never planning on heading that way to begin with. Sure, they wouldn’t wanna let a charr into their city, but you guys needed one of my people to join you here anyhow.  
That said, I’m kinda surprised that you wanted to go with us, instead of joining the others in the comfort and calm of Ebonhawke, Ovillus.”

The asura rolls his eyes.  
“Don’t be so bewildered, my furry friend. I actually find charr communities fairly captivating to study, even invigorating to certain degrees. Your kind has a fascinating perspective on technology and engineering.”

Raz laughs, while Rea smiles and shakes her head.  
“Well, I do sort of agree”, says the ranger. “Your people are definitely eager, Raz. I’m glad I could come with you instead of seeing the human place. Ebonhawke can wait.”

They eventually arrive outside the building where the Vigil is currently stationed, and after a small discussion with the guards, they are welcomed inside.  
There are a few people working in here, most of them discussing tactics and reports, but the charr they want to speak with is sitting by a table and seems to be having a meal. He’s still dressed in the heavy black and grey armor of the Vigil, but as he has taken off his helmet, they can spot the dark brown fur on his body.

Raz clears his throat to get the attention of those inside.  
“Hey, are you Warmaster Smoketail? That’s what the guards told us.”

The somewhat older charr surveys all three quickly and then gives them a solemn nod.  
“That’s right. Never seen your snouts before, though. Whaddya want?”

Raz inclines his head in respect and then decides to come closer, with the other two following. Grawdr had to wait outside.  
“The name’s Razok Cogfang. With me are Rea Svalen and Professor Ovillus.”

Ovillus decides to bow a bit deeper.  
“Salutations, most esteemed Warmaster. It is certainly a pleasure to be here. Though, I must confess that, despite feeling honored to be bestowed such a rank, I am not really-“

Before he can finish the sentence, Raz interrupts him.  
“Anyway, we’re actually members of the Blood Bond guild.”

Finally putting down his plate, Smoketail looks somewhat intrigued.  
“Hmm…Blood Bond, you say? That name is kinda familiar. Aren’t you the Heroes of Folly’s Breach?”

The group look surprised at first, before Raz smirks and glances at Rea.  
“Heh, heroes, you say? I guess we are, yeah. Bet Dae would like that.”

Rea grins.  
“Damn right.”

Pushing himself off his chair, Smoketail stands up.  
“Well then, you definitely have my attention. What can I do for ya?”

“Well”, Raz starts, “we’ve heard that there’s going to be a peace meeting here in the Fields of Ruin, to negotiate with the humans. It’s said that the Vigil is organizing it.”

“Yup, that’s true. The actual location for the summit will be to the northwest of here. The group we’re escorting hasn’t arrived yet, but they should be here at some point soon, along with some more troops.”

Raz nods briefly.  
“Well, if you don’t mind, we’d actually like to tag along. Our guild has some interest in making sure that nothing bad happens at this summit, and we’d like to offer our services. Fighting is something we’re decent at.”

“Dunno what you’re expecting, but how can I turn down an offer from the group that blasted a Branded Devourer Queen to smithereens?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If anyone is wondering, the group isn't calling Ovillus "Professor" just to mess with him._   
>  _Well...perhaps a little bit, but for the most part, the reason they use that nickname is because they think he deserves it. He has pretty much been temporarily kicked out of the colleges and if the other asura don't think he can have that title, then they will give it to him._


	3. Interwoven buds

While Sovica does not regret temporarily leaving Kryta behind, in order to get a chance to explore the world, one thing she has truly missed is the beds. Properly good and soft beds, with warm sheets and comforting blankets. Not that she has anything against sleeping on the ground when she’s out on an adventure anyway, but certain rough days have made her long for home. She practically thanked the Six last night, for the mercy of getting to rest in the Ebonhawke inn.  
Perhaps that’s simply her upbringing affecting her. Katla, Rea and Razok never seemed particularly bothered, and Daeynwe has always been too distracted by her excitement to care. The only one who has almost shared her opinion is Ovillus.

Either way, when they actually get up and walk out of the inn early in the morning to meet up with Warmaster Efut, the elementalist feels thoroughly rejuvenated and ready for a new day. This is quite fortunate, since the asura decides to guide them outside of the city walls and into the cold mist that still lingers in the area.  
On the outskirts, albeit not all too far away, Efut takes them into a camp that the guild had only briefly noticed when they passed by. It is placed fairly close to the wall, west of the northern gate.

“This is where most of our battalion has been stationed for the time being. We could not fit an entire encampment inside the city and there were not enough spaces in their own garrison for all of us. Luckily, our troops do not mind a bit of rough weather”, the Warmaster informs them proudly.  
“For now, our presence has also acted as a deterrent for potential hostiles, which I believe the humans appreciate. Well, at least until this fog blew in.”

What the group sees before them is a pretty sizeable camp, filled with tents, fires, weapons, equipment crates and, of course, soldiers.  
Sovica smiles as they enter the area, noticing a lot of their high-quality gear and armor. Many Vigil troops salutes as soon as Efut walks past.  
“It’s a fairly impressive setup, Warmaster. There must be a few hundred of you here and everyone seems ready to march.”

“Naturally. That is what the Vigil is all about, lady Vlasic. It is our foremost activity and purpose, to protect others. ‘Some must fight, so that all may be free’, as General Soulkeeper herself coined. It is an aphorism we live by.”

There are a few norn in this camp as well, but not a lot, and very few of them are as big as Katla, making her pretty much the largest entity to enter the area. She does turn a few heads for this reason.  
“Will there only be Vigil troops at the Summit then?”, she asks.

Efut shakes her head.  
“I doubt that. We are unaware how many Divinity’s Reach will send, but they insisted that they should have some Seraph as escorts. And, the High Legions being what they are, I doubt they will come empty-handed. Nonetheless, the Vigil should be the largest faction present.”

As they continue walking, in one corner, they suddenly see something different – it is a blue banner with what appears to be a white key on top. Daeynwe raises her hand and points at it.  
“Hey, that’s not your symbol is it? I recognize it somehow…”

The Warmaster furrows her brow and looks somewhat hesitant.  
“Oh, uh…yes. There are two Magisters present in our camp as well.”

Sov tilts her head curiously.  
“Magisters?”

“Correct. From…from the Durmand Priory”, she admits reluctantly.

The trio all look rather surprised, for one very obvious reason, which Dae is the first to question.  
“Really? I thought your two groups didn’t get along.”

Efut clears her throat and now that they’ve stopped, she also corrects her uniform.  
“Well, they can be…difficult, but we do our best. Some of them are near unbearable, but the two you see over there are at least polite and open-minded. Not as feeble as most scholars, either.”

The last comment makes Sov smirk, but she chooses not to make any inappropriate retorts.  
“Who are they?”

“Two sylvari. Sisters, I believe, or however that works. They asked to join our excursion, as they are going to explore an old ruin of some sort. You are free to go speak with them, if that is your wish.”

Sov glances at her girlfriend, and Dae smiles, seeming rather excited. Katla looks indifferent either way and merely shrugs.  
“Well, if you don’t mind, Warmaster, we might go say hello right away”, Sov tells Efut.

“Very well, if that is what you prefer. I shall go speak with my troops. I will be in the big central command tent if you need me.”

They approach the corner with the banner, which they do find somewhat amusing. Did the Magisters put that up to mess with the Vigil or to mark out their own territory?  
Either way, when they have almost arrived, Dae’s expression suddenly changes from interest to shocked elation.  
“Hold on! That’s…that’s Veilidh!”

Sov blinks, glances at her companion and then swiftly back to the sylvari duo, who seem to be busy with various tasks.  
“What? You mean…your sister?”

“Yes! Come on!”

Dae quickly waves her hand for them to follow as she immediately begins to run. Sov pursues her at a similar pace, while Katla chooses to walk.  
When they get closer, all three can observe the appearances of the duo. One of them – the one standing in blue robes – has yellow hide or skin, with thin dark red leaves as hair, in a similar style as Dae. Across her face are lined patterns with shades of green and pink, while her eyes seem to be an enjoyable sky blue. She is standing by some kind of map that she rests on a small table.  
The other sylvari, who sits on the ground, looks fairly different. Her skin is dark green with white and teal highlights, her eyes are white, and her thick shoulder-length hair appear like dark blue leaves or potentially flower petals. Compared to her friend, this second woman’s equipment is much more technical, with all sorts of metal pieces and gadgets strewn across her long burgundy-colored leather coat. Instead of doing research, this sylvari is tinkering with some kind of device, which resembles a turret.

“By the Pale Tree, it is you!”, Dae emits as she hurries up to them. “Veil! What are you doing here?”

The engineer blinks and quickly stands up. When she turns around to look at the approaching people, her curious expression extends into a smile instead.  
“Petal? Is that you?”

That suddenly slows Dae’s pace and she looks a bit unsure. This allows Sov to catch up, who’s breathing somewhat heavier now.  
“…Petal?”, the human asks.

Dae is now very close to the other sylvari, but she folds her arms and glances sideways.  
“…do you have to use that word here?”, she asks, and her face is glowing somewhat, meaning she’s likely blushing.

Fortunately, Veil has enough range to complete the approach and swiftly embraces her little sister. The two women are practically the same height, although the engineer may be just another inch taller. The hug she offers Dae is very eager, and she kisses the younger sylvari’s cheek soon after.  
“Oh, Petal, I’ve missed you so much! Where have you been? You haven’t sent any letters in a while. I got worried.”

The way Veil cares and holds her is definitely affectionate, but almost closer to a doting mother or older sister. The latter is probably more accurate. It also makes Dae very embarrassed.  
“I…I was busy.”

Veil arches her brow.  
“Too busy to contact your own sister?”

“Oh c’mon, you know I’ve been travelling. Besides, I was going to!  
…eventually.”

“Uh-huh”, Veil comments doubtfully. “I know that you’ve learned much more of the world now and you are certainly talented, but I still worry. You’re precious to me.”

Dae rolls her eyes.  
“…and you are embarrassing me in front of my friends!”

That makes Sovica giggle, while Katla snorts. The norn has certainly caught up with them now, and towers above them all.  
“You shouldn’t say that”, Katla tells her. “As an older sister myself, I know what she’s going through.”

Sovica folds her arms and looks up at her companion with a serious amount of skepticism.  
“Eh, not to question you or anything, Katla, but I’m pretty sure it would be the opposite with you and Rea.”

“…shut up.”

The last sylvari, who was standing by the map, smiles and approaches them as well. She is just as quick to hug Dae when she gets a chance, but in a softer manner.  
“It really is good to see you again, Dae. I’ve missed your enthusiasm.”

The rogue grins and eagerly returns the embrace.  
“Hey Sieran! Looking out for Veil as usual?”

“Hah! I’d like to say yes, but I’m afraid she could easily refute me.”

After the norn’s comment, Veil is way more interested in their guests, though.  
“Greetings, strangers! I’m Magister Veilidh, from the Durmand Priory. Although, perhaps Daeynwe has told you that already. Who are you two?”

Katla nods briefly in a sort of greeting.  
“Just the latest people that Dae has gotten into trouble.”

Sov raises her arm and gently nudges the elbow into the norn’s side. Or, at this height, closer to her thigh.  
“Katla, be nice.”

“You’re not Rea.”

“I’m her substitute.”

Wanting to make the introductions herself, Dae steps back in order to be closer to her friends.  
“Let me explain! On my route through the Shiverpeaks and Ascalon, I met up with a few nice people that I quickly befriended and which I’ve been doing a lot of adventuring with! We’re missing three members who are elsewhere, but I can still introduce these two!  
One of them is Katla here, who helped us in a fight. She’s a Guardian and is generally very good in combat. She’s kinda like a big cuddly brute.”

The norn turns to stare at her companion.  
“…cuddly?”

Dae grins and winks up her.  
“You know I’m right!”  
Shortly after, she turns around to look at the human instead, and her entire expression and stance softens.  
“And this lovely woman here is Sovica. We met in Lion’s Arch, where our journey first started, and it was between the two of us that the group itself initiated. She and I have…well, gone through a lot together.”  
The look she receives from Sov is equally affectionate and when Dae offers her hand, the human takes it, intertwining their fingers.  
“Ahem. And uh…well, she is now my girlfriend.”

From seeming curious at first, to slowly becoming more hesitant, Veil’s face immediately goes blank at the last sentence. She stares at the two of them for several seconds, before she dares say anything.  
“…your what?”, she asks carefully.

Sieran clears her throat and diverts her gaze.  
“…oh dear.”

With more determination in her eyes and voice, Dae redirects the attention to her sister.  
“She’s my girlfriend, Veil. We’re in love.”

This piece of news wasn’t welcomed in quite the way they had expected. Or perhaps it was for one, judging by Dae’s rather adamant behavior. Veil opens her mouth to say something, but briefly halts, trying to regain her composure.  
“…wait. No, I…I must have misheard.”

“You didn’t.”

“Or you are mistaken.”

“Pretty sure I’m not.”

Suddenly, Veil’s gesture grows fiercer and she spreads her arms questioningly.  
“Girlfriend?! You can’t have a girlfriend!”

Sov is somewhat taken aback by it, not having expected the engineer to raise her voice. Was this not a good idea?  
Dae frowns at her sister.  
“Yes, I can! She is right here. Her name is Sovica and she’s amazing. Aren’t you glad to meet her?”

Veil glances between the two, looking as if she’s not sure what to say or how to explain her emotional state. She’s getting overwhelmed.  
“But…but you-  
You can’t have one! You’re my sister.”

Dae groans in annoyance.  
“That’s not how it works.”

“This…this isn’t the way I planned for you to grow!”

“But it’s what I’m doing! Deal with it.”

While the two sisters are bickering or…whatever it is they’re doing, Sov seems very hesitant.  
“Did we…do something wrong? I’m not sure.”

In the meantime, Sieran merely smiles and approaches her.  
“Don’t worry, my sister is simply overreacting, because she has a hard time adapting to emotional revelations. Veil was present when Dae first awakened and has acted as both a sister and a mentor for her. She feels very responsible for Dae’s development.  
She’ll get over it soon.”

The gentler and calmer gesture from Sieran certainly interests Sov, who turns to her.  
“Oh, she’s your sister? Are you one of Dae’s sisters too then?”

“Hmm, sort of. I certainly care for Dae, but our bond is different than the one she shares with Veil, due to how they met. My sisterly bond is stronger with Veil, but-…well, it’s hard to explain to a non-sylvari.”

“It’s alright, I think I understand. I’m also glad that you are…somewhat less distressed.”

“Hah! Only in situations like these. I try to avoid most of the drama Veil gets herself into.  
But now that I have the chance, I must ask something. Your name is familiar to me, although I’m not sure if it’s a very common one among humans. Are you Sovica Vlasic?”

Sov blinks at first, not having expected anyone to recognize her here, especially not a sylvari.  
“Oh. Well, yes. I…didn’t know you had heard of me.”

After the two sisters have slightly calmed down, Veil can hear the other conversation going on and she sighs after the surname is spoken.  
“Ugh, of course. Is this a coincidence or is it fate somehow messing with us? Maybe it’s your gods…”

Sov glances between both Veil and Sieran confusedly.  
“…I don’t understand.”

Sieran smirks and playfully pats her sister’s shoulder.  
“Oh, it’s nothing major. We simply had an encounter with your cousin a while back.”

“Cousin? Wait, which one?”

“Derija.”

Comprehension shimmers through Sov’s eyes and she chuckles shortly after.  
“Ah, right. I see. That’s interesting. She does get around more than me, yeah. She can also be…a handful.”

Veil slowly shakes her head.  
“You’re telling me.”

Sieran nudges her shoulder into Veil in another jesting manner.  
“Or a mouthful.”

“…quiet.”  
After taking a deep breath and correcting herself, the engineer tries to look at Sov with a slightly more cordial attitude.  
“Excuse me for the outburst moments ago. I’m trying my best to…acclimatize to this revelation. Dae is…well, like I said, precious. She’s my sweet little sister. I don’t want any harm to come to her.”

Taking a few steps closer to the older sylvari, Sov reaches out with her hand and tries to look as friendly as possible.  
“It’s alright, Magister, I realize what you’re going through. I have a younger sister as well, albeit not with such a wide age gap. It can be difficult when life changes for them.  
Fortunately, Dae is precious to me as well. She was right earlier, as she is my girlfriend and I care for her deeply, as we have spent several months together now. Please, don’t doubt that I will do anything for her, no matter what it is. I love her with all my heart.”

Veil views the human and listens intently to her words, trying her best to watch for any signs of deception. Fortunately, there are none. This is why she reaches out to shake Sov’s hand.  
“I sense you’re telling the truth. Very well, I suppose I can allow you to care for my Petal. For now.”

Dae groans louder this time.  
“…Veil, dammit!”

That makes Sov grin slightly.  
“And now I seriously want to know the origin of that nickname.”

“No, you don’t, because we’re not using it anymore!”

Being more interested in another aspect, Sieran glances in between all three.  
“Are you coming with us for the excursion to the north?”

“Yup, we are”, Katla confirms.

“Ooh, great! Now this trip will be even more cherry!”

The term confuses the two non-sylvari women and Sov glances at Katla.  
“…cherry?”

Katla shrugs.  
“Sylvari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If you haven't read "Chasing night's shadows", yes, Veilidh here is my official Pact Commander. Like I mentioned earlier, this is before she got that position._   
> 


	4. Big C

The day after their arrival in Deathblade’s Watch, the Blood Bond trio head out of the inn they had been sleeping at and stroll towards the western section of town. They’ve recently picked up a rumor of yet another set of new guests.  
Despite still being slightly affected by last night’s drinking, most of them seem to be in pretty good shape, even Ovillus. They have had time for lunch and gotten some fresh air already, though, even if it’s questionable how crisp it actually is in this outpost.

Once they arrive, they run into the familiar face of Warmaster Smoketail, still being in his armor. He’s walking not too far away from a large gathering of soldiers, apparently on the verge of leaving their company. Before he can get anywhere, Raz holds up a paw and waves at him.  
“Warmaster!”

Smoketail hadn’t noticed them yet, but he does react to the voice, which is why he stops and nods.  
“Ah, Blood Bond. Hadn’t seen you guys today. Figured you might’ve celebrated a bit too hard. Heard you played heroes again yesterday, by saving that caravan.”

Rea smirks at him and folds her arms.  
“Eh, it was nothing major. Just the typical good work we do. When you’re among the best, these things come easy.”

Raz clears his throat, not wanting to brag quite as heavily. Some may call them ‘heroes’, but he prefers to at least appear somewhat more reasonable than that.  
“Uh, anyway, we heard about some commotion. What’s all this?”, he asks and gestures at the soldiers nearby.

There’s quite a bit of noise coming from that area, as these people are fairly loud. Raz thinks he can guess what organization they’re from, but best to ask anyway. Smoketail gives them a brief glance too.  
“Oh, these people? It’s three Blood Legion warbands that are gathered here as reinforcements for the coming event. Apparently, they were sent ahead of Legion delegation, as they were stationed further up north previously.  
I had a chat with them, to see that everything was alright, and their commanding officer informed me that she has been assigned as the head of security for the High Legion forces at the summit. The order was sent by Tribune Brimstone himself.”

Not quite what they had expected, but might provide an interesting opportunity.  
“Hmm, fascinating”, Raz comments. “Sounds kinda important too.”

Rea nods in agreement.  
“You think we could go have a chat with her? Might be a good idea to introduce ourselves, so she won’t be suspicious of our presence.”

Smoketail shrugs.  
“I don’t see why not. You probably have a point too, as we don’t want any hostilities. I have to go file some reports, but you’re free to do as you wish.”

Once the Vigil officer walks off, Raz’s companions watches him as he seems to ponder the choices at play here.  
“Well…I’ve never had a very good relationship with Blood soldiers, but I guess it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. Just be careful. Some in that Legion can get kinda violent if you say the wrong thing.”

Rea smiles and gently pats his shoulder.  
“Ah, I’m sure it’ll be fine. If we survived an onslaught from your mother, I’m confident we can handle a short conversation with an officer like this.”

While he doesn’t share her enthusiasm, Raz will admit that it shouldn’t be as bad as he fears. Or at least he hopes it won’t be, because he has no interest in feuds. He hasn’t had any of those himself, but he knows it can get quite tense between Blood and Ash. They work together, but rarely trust each other fully. He has heard how the term ‘Ash trash’ has flown around certain circles.  
“Guess that’s a fair perspective. Alright, let’s go see what she has to say.”

As they move towards the warbands, trying to reach the center of the gathering, they can hear how someone in that sector appears to be talking rather loudly about tactics. She’s discussing it with some of the others, and even soldiers of lower ranks get to pitch in every now and then.  
It isn’t until they’ve almost arrived that they see how the person in focus is pretty large. She’s got a similar pattern and colors on her fur as Raz, but she is both taller and bulkier, more so than most of the other soldiers too. She wears heavy red armor that is reinforced in certain sections, but has currently removed her shoulder pads and helmet.  
Except for her spiky black mane, she has two large horns on her head, resembling scythes and two shorter jutting out from the side of her head. She has rather bushy eyebrows and just like Raz, her eyes are white.

“There’ll be a lot to look out for during this mission”, she tells her soldiers in a loud determined voice, “from ogres and stray Branded, to potential traitors among both the Legions and the humans. This may be an event to bring peace, but I don’t want any of you to get lax, so stay alert at all times.”  
Shortly after, she shows them a slight smirk. “But, of course, it’s always more fun if they actually give us some resistance, right? Wouldn’t be much of a summit otherwise.”

The group hears how the gathered soldiers chuckle and some of them bang on their own armors, everyone seemingly agreeing with her sentiment. Yeah, Raz is now sure he’s among Blood Legion. No other charr are as thirsty for a fight as these people.  
Once the soldiers begin to separate and go off on their own for a while, that gives the group an even better view. Raz had been hesitant earlier, but now he suddenly sees her perfectly, which makes him widen his eyes.

“…Crag? Ah, shit.”

His own voice triggers a reaction from the officer, as her ears twitches and she turns towards him. She looks at him for a second or two, before she breaks out into a grin.  
“Raz? Hah, burn me. This wasn’t who I expected to meet today!”

She starts moving towards him rather quickly and he takes a step back, raising his arms.  
“No, wait! Don’t-“

It’s too late, as she is not stopping. She leans down slightly and wraps her arms around the shorter charr. When she’s got a good grip, she easily lifts him up and to his friends’ surprise, tosses him over her shoulder. While he’s up there, she chuckles and pats his back.  
“It’s good to see you again, brother!”

Ovillus appears rather bewildered at the entire thing.  
“Well, this was…unconventional. I didn’t know anyone could even hoist Razok in this fashion.”

In the meantime, Rea laughs, clearly being amused.  
“Aww, that’s adorable!”

Crag turns to look at them and she smiles when she hears the norn.  
“He’s not as heavy as you might think. Then again, there are few people on Tyria that I can’t lift.”

Raz has sort of resigned himself to his fate now, hanging in a fairly humiliating position and sighs briefly.  
“…alright, you’ve had your fun. Could you set me down so that my friends won’t think I’m completely ridiculous?”

“Hmm. Your friends?”  
She follows his request and gradually puts him down on the ground, while surveying the other two people nearby.  
“Well then, who do we have here?”

Rea folds her arms and inclines her head.  
“I could ask the same thing about you! Haven’t met many from Raz’s family before.  
The name’s Rea Svalen and the short fellow next to me is Professor Ovillus.”

The asura slowly shakes his head.  
“I…don’t suppose I have much choice in this matter, do I? Fine, Professor it is.”

Crag steps up to them and offers her large paw, to shake their hands.  
“Good to meet ya! Always happy to see friends of my brother. I’m Cragthea Slagmarrow – leader of the Slag warband and Centurion of the Blood Legion. Call me Crag. Everyone else does.”

Not only does Crag look very strong, but her handshake is quite firm too. Not too much for the norn to handle, obviously, but she doesn’t know if the charr is lenient on purpose or not.  
There’s something specific in the introduction which intrigues Rea, though.  
“Centurion? That’s interesting. Your brother is only a soldier, as far as I know. You don’t look a lot older.”

“Heh, well, there are a few years between us, but I think it has more to do with our personalities. Raz has difficulties fitting in with Ash, while I’m a perfect match for Blood. Or maybe people are just scared of me, I dunno”, she says with an added snort at the end.

Raz stands next to his sister and the size between them becomes even more obvious here. He sighs and shrugs.  
“Crag has always been pretty big…and fierce. No one dares to mess with her, basically. Might have helped with convincing people to respect her.”

The big charr laughs – a sound that echoes over the area - and nudges her shoulder playfully into his, but not too hard. It would likely knock him over in that case.  
“Well, it’s all to my benefit, really. Dad used to tell me I was born to be an officer, but I don’t think he expected me to surpass him. Or, hell, maybe it’s the tricks I know, that makes people think twice before opposing me.”

Rea tilts her head curiously.  
“Tricks?”

“Yeah, I’m a trained ‘Guardian’, as they call it. Lots of weird old human magic involved in that crap. Even I don’t fully get it.”

The word is obviously familiar to the norn, who suddenly looks somewhat surprised.  
“You are? Huh. I have only met a few people like that in my life, but my sister is probably the foremost of them.”

Crag arches her eyebrow amusedly.  
“Really? A norn guardian, huh? Interesting. Seems there's more than one sister with those tricks. Is she around?”

“She’s at Ebonhawke, unfortunately. You’ll have to wait for the Summit to meet her.”

“I see. Ah well, I can be patient. But that does bring me to a similar subject.”  
She glances at her brother.  
“Raz, what are you doing in the Watch? Why are you with these people and where is your warband?”

Several questions at once and all of them could be rather difficult to explain. Well, would be tougher if it wasn’t someone he knew so well.  
He starts by clearing his throat.  
“Uh, well…technically, the people you see here are part of my warband now. I’ve joined a guild with various members from other races, called Blood Bond.”

Now it’s Crag’s turn to be temporarily stunned.  
“Hold on a second. Blood Bond? Smoketail told me about them. Are you saying that you’re the ones that people are calling the ‘Heroes of Folly’s Breach’?”

“Erm…yeah, basically.”

Rea smirks and puts her hands at her hips.  
“Hey, don’t be modest now, Raz! Damn right we’re those heroes. We smashed every single one of those pathetic Branded! Well, with a bit of aid from Sentinels and the villagers. It was an amazing battle.”

Crag seems to think about that situation for a moment, running her claws slowly over her chin. For some reason, a few seconds later, she starts to laugh again. After she gets ahold of herself, she pats Raz hard on the back.  
“My brother, a hero. Hah! I wanna see mom’s face right now.”

Rea and Ovillus shares a brief look, obviously thinking the same thing.  
“I…kinda wonder how she would react too”, Rea admits cautiously. “Not favorably, I expect.”

The Centurion doesn’t respond, but instead continues to watch the other charr.  
“What does this mean for your status, Raz? Have you done anything about it? Did mom actually give you permission to join a guild?”

Now he appears a lot more uncomfortable and fidgets somewhat with his response.  
“Uhh…well, not exactly. I spoke to Centurion Flamepaw, who’s stationed at an area west from here. He helped me make an official document. I applied to gain a ‘free agent’ status, which would give me authorization to join guilds. Viturg has signed it and promised to file all of the necessary papers that follows it.  
Mom could still stop it, but…”

Crag grins.  
“Heh, but you’re gonna be far away from here by then, I expect.”

“We…we’ll see. Haven’t decided yet.”

Seeing how they’ve seemingly solved it, Crag turns to glance between him and the other two.  
“Does this mean you’re coming to the Summit?”

Rea nods quickly.  
“Yup, we certainly are. We want to get involved, make sure that nothing bad happens.”

“You’re expecting trouble?”

“Possibly. Before we split up, our guild ran into some rumors that there are groups among both the charr and humans that might try to prevent the negotiations from proceeding.”

That makes the Centurion’s grin grow even wider than previously, almost predatorily.  
“Sounds like my kind of mission. Was hoping we’d get to see some action at that place. With us, you, some humans, and the Vigil, there’s no way we’ll lose.”  
She then wraps an arm around Raz once more, but this time to hug him rather than toss him anywhere.  
“Glad you’re here, Raz. It’s been a while since we hung out together. We should have a drink later on. Obviously, your buddies here should join us.”

With a bright smile of her own, Rea nods once more.  
“Certainly! We accept.”

Despite her enthusiasm, they hear a small groan from Ovillus.  
“I recall how partaking of beverages with charr went on our last celebration. I question the wisdom of this choice…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So yeah, that's Crag introduced. She's going to be involved mostly in Raz's part of the story. Wanted to find someplace to get her into these fics and the summit was an adequate one, in my opinion._   
>  _She and her brother are quite different, but compared to his mother, Raz's relationship with Crag is very good. You know, even if she's a bit boisterous_


	5. Divine gifts

For once during this year’s rather dreary winter, the fog has dispersed somewhat and given the citizens of Ebonhawke a little better visibility than they’ve had thus far, and this is at quite a convenient occasion.  
The city is filled with activity and noises, almost to an exciting degree. Not that this is entirely surprising, due to the size of the settlement, but today is quite a special day, which is why many workers have been ordered to make preparations.

The Blood Bond trio is also present within the sturdy walls at this time. They’ve spent some more time with Veilidh and Sieran during the past few days, but the Magisters are still preparing for their own excursion and were not particularly intrigued by what’s happening in the city. Apparently, history is more interesting to them than politics, even if it deals with the matter of peace.  
The trio repositions to a specific location to the west, heading straight for the only asura gate actually available in the region. At this time, it is not activated, but that does not stop the flow of people. Workers, soldiers and officials of all sorts are getting excited for what is about to occur. They’re receiving some very important guests soon and even if it’s only temporary, the city must appear at its best.

Standing close to this location, Sovica, Daeynwe and Katla spot a very familiar figure. As they approach, the noblewoman smiles and raises her hand to wave.  
“Warmaster Efut. Punctual as always, I see.”

The asura straightens her back and offers a quick nod.  
“Naturally. As officers of the Vigil, there is a certain expectation that we adhere to principles of discipline and formality.”

“Don’t worry, I understand. If my sister is correct, then it’s the same in the Seraph.”  
They stop next to her, and Sov lays her eyes on the large round construct of the gate’s physical creation.  
“So…the official delegation from Divinity’s Reach will be here soon, I suppose?”

“Any minute now”, Efut confirms. “Which is exactly why I asked you to come. I am thankful that you didn’t miss it.”

The tone she uses is rather curious, something that prompts Sov to survey the woman in front of her.  
“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem nervous somehow, Warmaster.”

There’s practically a flinch from Efut when she tilts her head back and looks up at Sov with an offended gaze.  
“Nervous? Me? Preposterous! I am an officer in the Vigil and would never be brought into such crude emotions regarding a simple…”  
She stops, lets her shoulders slump and sighs heavily. It appears she gave up rather quickly.  
“…alright, fine. I must admit that my resolve falters somewhat. I have never dealt much with human nobility, which makes me uncertain how to best act in their presence.”

Sov looks amused as she folds her arms.  
“I am a member of the nobility, and yet you don’t seem to have any trouble speaking with me.”

“Well…true enough, but you are much more cordial and flexible than what most rumors and reports say about your peers. It is said that they are…finicky and easily offended.”

The hesitation behind the words makes Sov giggle. After all, she’s not wrong. Momentarily, the elementalist is reminded of the many lessons she had to go through as a child, regarding how to best behave in such company.  
“That is a decent way to describe it. Most of them don’t leave their homes behind, like I did.  
However, if you wish, I would be more than happy to lend you my assistance, if there happens to be some etiquette that you are doubtful of.”

It’s quite visible how Efut briefly breathes out in relief at the offer.  
“Thank you, my lady, you are most kind. I doubt it’s an offer that I can refuse, without making a fool of myself, so yes, please do. It is why I asked you to come, after all.  
Perhaps we should discuss how to best handle a proper greeting with-“

Unfortunately, the Warmaster does not have time for any more inquiries, as everyone hears a static noise from the gate. A couple of asura in the area immediately redirect their attention to it and minor vibrations can be felt through the ground. Suddenly, it all ignites, and a pink or purple gateway appears right within the circular structure.  
It’s hard to see details past the gates, except contours and minor signs of a landscape, but it’s pretty clear that something is moving towards it. Everyone else takes a step back, just in case.

The first ones to wander through is a pair of heavily armed and armored humans, the getup easily identifiable as the marks of Seraph soldiers. It is almost nostalgic for Sov to put her eyes on the winged helmets and the white tabards, but she quickly shrugs these thoughts off. There was a small hope in her that her sister might step out and reveal herself, but there is no such luck.  
The Seraph are followed by a man who is not dressed in armor, but an outfit that isn’t ludicrously ceremonial either. It is quite clear that the maroon, white and silver clothes he wears are expensive, though.  
Except for his clothes, it is also possible to distinguish his fair skin, shoulder-length black and heavily greying hair, a few wrinkles on his face, as well as his hazel eyes. Despite clearly not being in his prime, Sov considers him very handsome for his age.

Instead of focusing on the people, the very first thing he does is raise his eyes up to the walls, looking at them with a sense of wistfulness.  
“Ahh, Ebonhawke. It has been too many years since I’ve viewed its magnificence. As beautiful as ever. Truly a shining gem in amongst crude rocks.”  
After he’s done gazing distantly, the soldiers immediately step aside, letting him go first now that they’ve established that there’s no threat available. He sees that there’s a lot of people gathered, but his eyes are drawn down to the asura who stands closest.  
“Greetings. Can I assume that you are Warmaster Efut?”

She gazes up at him, and corrects her armor somewhat. Sov had noticed it earlier, but it’s fairly obvious that she has had it polished recently.  
“You can and would be correct. I lead the Vigil forces on this side of the summit.”

The man offers her a charming smile, as well as his hand.  
“A pleasure, ma’am. I’ve quickly come to realize that your organization is one to rely on, particularly in exceptionally difficult situations. I was most satisfied when I learned that the Vigil initiated this process, which I aim to finish. I certainly hope that we can do so together.”

She accepts the handshake with mild surprise, due to his eagerness.  
“I am delighted to hear that you think so, erm…my lord? Apologies, I am unsure what to call you.”

After they’re done, his smile widens, and he stands up fully so that he can bow politely.  
“Baron Cramon Lartus of Queen’s Forest. I have served the Royal Diplomatic Service for the last 30 years. What we accomplish here in Ascalon may become my masterpiece.”

“Quite impressive, indeed, Baron.”  
She takes a step back and then gestures to her side.  
“I will take you to our camp later on, but for now, let me introduce my retinue. They arrived fairly recently, you see.  
These are members of Blood Bond, a guild that very newly arose to gain much fame in certain areas around Ascalon. We have Katla Svalen off to the left, from Snowden Drifts I’m told. Then there is Daeynwe from the Grove, and one that you might-“

She doesn’t even manage to finish her sentence, before the Baron widens his eyes and interrupts Efut with a heavy laughter. The asura is somewhat taken aback, as are a few others, but Cramon ignores them. Instead, he closes the distance to the other human.  
“Lady Sovica Vlasic, heiress of the Broadhollow barony.”  
In a very smooth move, he takes her hand, tilts his head down and kisses the back of it. The act doesn’t make Sov react much, as she is used to such efforts among nobility, but Dae arches her brow skeptically.  
“This is a most unexpected pleasure. Your mother, one of our dear Ministers, has caused quite a stir in the noble circles after your disappearance.”

Sov is surprised at first, before she resumes her smile.  
“Oh, thank you, Baron. Your reputation in Kryta is fairly well-known, even to me. However, I…had not heard that my mother would cause such problems.”

He chuckles as he leaves his arms behind his back.  
“Well, ‘problems’ is one definition, but for me, it is mostly an amusement. To think that you are just a short step away from Kryta now is even more thrilling and humorous.”

The young Vlasic clears her throat and tries her best not to look too embarrassed. From behind, she senses how Dae puts a hand on her back. Not possessively, exactly, but to show that she’s available for support. Sov loves her for it, but she doesn’t need it here. This is one type of area where she knows what she’s doing, much more so than the rest of her guild.  
“It was never my intention for there to be such rumors created about me, my lord, I assure you. That said, I…needed some fresh air.”

Luckily, Cramon appears to be in a good mood, which is why he laughs again.  
“Hah! Don’t we all?”

“I am glad you don’t disapprove of my actions, though.”

“Tsk, why would I? It’s not like this is an issue for me. I am not related to you in any way, so no harm will come to my position. Besides, I have always condoned actions that bring a bit of fire into our surroundings. Things grow too stale, otherwise.  
Can I assume that you have not asked your mother for permission about joining this guild, though?”

“Heh, well, I don’t think that’s necessary. I am my own woman.”

Cramon smirks.  
“Wait until you have to tell her that. In fact, I would love to be present when you do.”

It’s not like Sov minds speaking of her family with others, but they are in quite a public setting at this time, so she realizes it might be best to divert the subject.  
“If I may ask, do you have any experience with this specific type of diplomacy, my lord?”

He raises his hand and puts it to his chest in a very theatrical fashion.  
“My lady! You would pose this question to a man with such extensive skill as mine? Your doubt almost offends me!”

It’s pretty clear that he’s being playful, and she offers a very charming smile of her own.  
“No offense intended, of course, Baron. I merely thought to inquire, since this task is so momentous.”

“Yes, naturally, I do, albeit not to such a substantial degree as I’d prefer.  
I have negotiated treaties with Lion’s Arch, the norn of Hoelbrak and even one with the sylvari Wardens. For a few years, I was also an ambassador to Lion’s Arch, which was a most enlightening experience.  
I am not afraid to say that this will likely be my crowning achievement, though, if it can actually be completed. I won’t hide the fact that I know my name shall be written in the history books and I very much look forward to it. Besides, it is high time that we make peace with the charr. Ascalon is no longer ours, and if we are to safely maintain an outpost in this land, we must create good terms that benefit us both. Think of the potential trade agreements we can negotiate with them after this!”

She’s pretty glad that he actually sounds enthusiastic and eager, but she has to maintain a certain level of doubt.  
“I agree that it won’t be easy. The reason our guild is present at all is because we’ve heard of rumors regarding elements from both the charr and our own people, who oppose the meeting’s purpose.”

“This doesn’t surprise me at all. There was always going to be short-sighted people around, but they don’t worry me. Much of this is due to the fact that we have prepared a gift for the charr, to cement our relationship. I doubt that they will be able to resist.”

This was something they hadn’t heard of, and Sov looks very curious now.  
“Oh? May we ask what that is?”

“Certainly! In fact, let me do something even better – I can show you.”

He glances over his shoulder and gestures with one hand. One of the guards in the back approaches and holds a steel box in their hands. When it is presented to him, Cramon unlocks it and displays a very ornate and beautiful item, which none of the trio nor Warmaster Efut has ever seen before. It is an ungue of some sort, with two blades jutting forward and two blades backwards, set with four gems; they shimmer in colors of red, black, gray, and gold.

“Amazing”, Sov comments, her mouth somewhat agape. “But, what is it? A weapon? Why would the charr want this?”

Cramon looks very satisfied that she asks.  
“This is something which we had one of our special operations teams dig out from the depths of old Ascalon, weeks ago. It is known as the Claw of the Khan-Ur, an ancient heirloom of the charr, originally owned and wielded by a long-lost leader of theirs.  
The Khan-Ur was the ‘primus imperator’, the leader who unified all of the charr. This being, whomever it was, fought humans around the time of the Exodus, but we assassinated the Khan-Ur to bring chaos to them. The four children of this leader formed the High Legions.  
There has only ever been one Khan-Ur. This weapon, the Claw, is what the Khan-Ur used and having it is one of the requirements for a new one to rise. A few have tried, but none have ever succeeded. Previously, it was seen wielded by the imperator of the Flame Legion, just prior to the Foefire’s ignition. It had been lost ever since.”  
He closes and locks the box again.  
“As you might realize, I am quite certain that the charr will understand how eager we are to have peace.”

After taking a deep breath, to steady her emotions, Sov nods slowly.  
“I hope so.” She glances at her companions. “Razok will be excited when he hears of this.”

Dae smiles at her girlfriend.  
“Definitely. Maybe we can actually do this, after all.”


	6. Edge of unity

The past few days within Deathblade’s Watch have been rather uneventful. The Blood Bond trio plus Grawdr have spent most of it by keeping their minds and skills sharp, bellies full, getting enough rest and occasionally sitting down to drink with some of the charr warbands. Whenever they managed to invite Cragthea, she was eager to tell some old stories of the battles she has been in. It appears the Centurion has fought all types of enemies of the charr, pretty much every single one that her people are currently at war with. Her favorite punching bag is apparently the Flame Legion.

Eventually, on a somewhat less foggy day, a messenger from Crag approaches, telling her brother and his friends that they’ve spotted movements on the outskirts of the town. This is an obvious sign that it’s time to get busy.  
When they arrive at the western gates, Crag is standing among the warbands she brought with her, including the Slag one. Her snout is turned towards the roads outside, but as soon as she hears that they’re getting company, she swirls around. Almost immediately, she briefly embraces her little brother.

“You guys were pretty quick. All four of ya ready for what we’re about to do soon enough? It’ll be an interesting journey to the summit.”

Once she releases Razok, he corrects his coat and nods at Crag.  
“I certainly am. The sooner the better, to be honest. Getting kinda restless sitting around all the time.”

Rea glances at her friend and folds her arms.  
“I know what you mean, but I have to say that I’ll miss this place. Never had the chance to spend so much time in a big charr town like this. I should probably take the opportunity to speak to more people before we leave.”

They hear a slight groan from beneath them, where Ovillus shakes his head.  
“I thoroughly disagree. The prospect appeared positively thrilling at the start, but now I almost wish I had chosen a different route. I have had enough of partaking of alcoholic beverages practically every night. And I am relatively certain that some of these charr have been rude to me. Such crude behavior is not tolerable.”

His complaints make Crag laugh.  
“Welcome to the Legions, pal. But hey, I think you’re in luck too, because we’re about to get more guests. They’ve been pretty slow so far, but they’re on their way.”

A combination of enthusiasm and hesitation enters Raz’s eyes.  
“Oh? You can see them?”

Crag gestures for them to follow, as she takes them outside the gates and then nudges her head in the direction of the fairly big group coming from the west. From the look of the armors, it would seem to be a whole heap of more Blood Legion soldiers. Together with Crag’s team, they’re virtually enough to rival the Vigil troop numbers now. Well, not completely. The Vigil obviously has even more in Ebonhawke, but this is still an impressive amount of charr. Whatever fools seek to hurt this gathering, they will not have an easy time to succeed.

At the head of this convoy walks one particular charr, with brown fur and heavy grey plate armor. The look on his face is pretty grim and serious, but the group mostly notes what hangs at his belt – a burning blade.  
This is likely why Razok widens his eyes.  
“Wait a second. Isn’t that…Tribune Brimstone?”

Rea almost immediately turns towards him.  
“Rytlock Brimstone?”

Crag inclines her head to confirm their assumptions.  
“Yep. I told you he was the delegation leader.”

“…what?”, Raz asks. “No, you didn’t!”

“Didn’t I?” Crag scratches under her chin with a claw. “Huh. Well, now you know.”

Raz groans and buries his face in one of his paws.  
“Sis, you gotta keep us updated on this stuff. We might’ve needed to prepare!”

“Bah, don’t fuss so much. It’ll be fine.”

While Raz is rather unhappy with his sister’s all too carefree attitude, Rea somehow appears quite excited.  
“Wasn’t he one of the members of Eir’s group?”

Crag shifts her gaze in the direction of the norn.  
“Destiny’s Edge? Yeah, he fought with those guys for a while. If you want my advice, it’s best not to talk about that, though. It’s a sore spot for him.”

“Do you know him then?”

“Well, I know him as well as a subordinate can get familiar with their superior officer, I suppose. There’s not much more than that.”

Raz arches his brow somewhat, not seeming like he fully believes his sister.  
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

Crag snorts.  
“What, Ash has rumors about me?”

“Well, they say that the Tribune has a bit of a…soft spot for you. He trusts you with some of his more complicated and grueling mission.”

“Maybe ‘they’ should stay out of our business.”

At the same time, Rea looks somewhat confused.  
“Wait. If he values her, why would he send her on tougher missions? You’d think it’d be the opposite.”

“Not among our people”, Raz tells her. “If you need someone for tough and almost suicidal missions, you want to send your favorites. It’ll be an honor for the soldiers whether they return or perish anyway; dying in combat is a preference for a lot of charr, especially those from Blood.”

Crag exhales and briefly shakes her head.  
“Alright, I admit that he does often ask me to lead missions that others can’t handle, but there’s nothing else to it.  
Though, I freely admit that the Tribune is a very attractive male. I wouldn’t mind letting him sire my cubs.”

Despite that Raz was sort of the one who got them on this track, he groans, almost sounding disgusted.  
“What the hell, Crag? I don’t wanna hear that!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have made implications about us, idiot.”  
It doesn’t take much longer until Rytlock and his group arrive at the gates, and as soon as they do, Crag and nearby soldiers salute.  
“Welcome to Deathblade’s Watch, Tribune Brimstone!”

Rytlock’s eyes lock onto her and he snorts when he sees the large charr. It actually looks like she’s even a bit bigger than him.  
“Already here, Slagmarrow? Thought we’d beat you by at least a few hours.”

She doesn’t even try to hide her amused expression.  
“I know, sir. That’s why I told my troops to stop being lazy and get their sorry tails moving faster. Wasn’t gonna let you win.”

The Tribune shakes his head, but they can all see how there’s a smirk on his face.  
“Hope you’ll show the same dedication when it comes to guarding the summit, Centurion.”

“Not a chance. I’ll work at least twice as hard, sir. That’s a promise.”

It seems the rest of the group did not escape his notice. While Rytlock gestures for his soldiers to get inside the Watch, he turns his attention to the outsiders.  
“And who do we have here? You’re not from Blood.”

Raz seems somewhat nervous all of a sudden, most noticeable through the twitches of his tail. He clears his throat before he talks.  
“Uh, no sir, we’re not. I’m Razok Cogfang from the Fang warband, Ash Legion.”

To emphasize it, Crag nods eagerly and points her thumb at him.  
“This is my lil’ brother, Tribune. Think I might’ve mentioned him before.”

When Ash is referenced, Rytlock doesn’t seem to react much, but now he suddenly furrows his brow in a skeptical manner.  
“Another one of Centra’s cubs, huh?”

That got Raz’s attention and he relaxes a little bit.  
“You’re familiar with our mother, sir?”

Rytlock practically scoffs as he diverts his eyes elsewhere.  
“Familiar? Heh. Yeah, I know her. She kinda hates me.”

Shortly after he says it, Crag starts to laugh.  
“She doesn’t hate you, sir! When we met in Diessa just a few months ago, she told me that you’re very useful to the Legions.”

“Yeah, ‘useful’ being the keyword. She can see what good I do for the Legions without enjoying me.  
It’s fine, she’s a pain in the tail too. Old bastard nags me every time.”

Raz coughs somewhat to hide his smile.  
“That’s uh…relatable.”

Trying to shake off any ideas of the Ash Legion Tribune, he looks towards those in Raz’s company.  
“Anyway, I demand to know what a norn and an asura are doing in the Watch. Can’t remember inviting them to the summit.”

“Ah, they’re with me, sir”, Raz explains. “They’re part of my guild.”

Rytlock arches his brow confusedly.  
“Guild? Thought you said you’re with Ash.”

“Uh, yeah, I am, but I’m also a member of this new guild. We’re called Blood Bond.”

The skepticism on Rytlock’s face now shifts into mild interest instead, as he runs a few claws under his chin.  
“Hmm. That name is familiar somehow.”

It seems that Crag can’t help but grin. She loves the chance to boast about her brother, apparently.  
“Yep! They’re the ones that people are calling the Heroes of Folly’s Breach. Took down a whole horde of Branded.”

“Not alone”, Raz adds quickly. “We had the townsfolk and some Sentinels helping us out.”

Seeing as how Raz isn’t doing the introduction, Rea smiles and seizes the opportunity for herself.  
“Greetings, Tribune! The name’s Rea Svalen and the man next to me is Professor Ovillus. It’s a great honor to meet a fighter like you!”

“Honor, huh?”, Rytlock responds. “Few ever tell me that.”

“Maybe, but few people have ever spent much time with Eir Stegalkin too!”

Apparently, Rea must have hit a nerve, as Rytlock suddenly seems to grow very tense and he narrows his eyes in her direction.  
“If I were you, I’d be careful, if you really wanna continue this conversation.”

Crag clears her throat as a warning gesture, giving Rea an alarmed gaze.  
“Uh, I did tell you not to.”

Rea is not deterred and continues smiling towards Rytlock.  
“I’m not speaking as a giddy fan or anything, Tribune. My sister and I are friends of Eir as well.”

At least she manages to relieve some of the tension, as Rytlock tilts his head curiously.  
“You are?”

“Indeed! Katla and I grew up next to Eir, in a way. She was a friend of our adopted parents. Both of us were given lessons from her in how to hunt and fight, and without her, I don’t think our sisterly bond would’ve grown as fierce as it has become.  
Of course, everything wasn’t always perfect, as we have certainly argued. For a few years, Eir and Katla were not on very good terms, but things have gotten better since then. We only came out here because we actually wanted to see what type of enemies could’ve ever matched Eir.”

The gaze on the older charr has grown rather thoughtful now, as he receives new information, likely one he had never heard before.  
Shortly after, he shrugs.  
“Didn’t think I’d run into one of Stegalkin’s old apprentices, but if I should have anyone at my side to this gathering, might as well be you.  
Your skills anywhere near Eir’s?”

Rea smiles confidently.  
“Oh, you bet! I think she outclasses me in ferocity and reflexes, but I’m more than her match in everything else. Pretty sure she stands no chance against me in a precision contest.”

Rytlock actually starts to laugh, but only briefly.  
“Hah! That’s bold. I like you, Svalen. Better not disappoint me now.”

Hoping to take the conversation back to the matter at hand, Raz decides to speak up again.  
“Sir, if I might ask, what do you believe is going to happen at the actual summit? Are the Legions ready to do what’s necessary?”

“Well, my orders are to listen to what the humans have to say, but I can’t confirm whether we’re ready to agree with every suggestion.  
If you’re worried about our chances, don’t be. The Imperators do actually want peace right now, at least with the humans. We have enough enemies with the ogres, the Branded, the Ascalonian ghosts and the Flame Legion. Ending one front should give us some space. As long as Ebonhawke doesn’t say anything stupid, we should be fine.”

Crag looks mildly amused.  
“And who knows? Maybe we’ll even have the humans as allies on a few of the other battlefields.”

“Tsk”, Rytlock emits. “The furless curs actually daring to fight with us? That’ll be the day.”

Ovillus exhales briefly.  
“Not a very…diplomatic outlook.”

Rytlock snorts in his direction.  
“We’re charr, kindling. We deal with negotiations in our own way. The humans should know that by now.  
Anyway, been a while since I was last here. Where’s the nearest tavern? I want a drink before I do anything else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yep, Crag is into Rytlock. Too bad Brimstone is gay for Logan, right?_


	7. Curiosity of origins

Despite a certain reluctance among the soldiers and the various civilians sent with them, the journey from Ebonhawke to the summit within the center of Fields of Ruin has begun. Some of the fog has partially returned and it’s still as cold as ever, but any hesitation among those who would prefer to remain within the relative warmth of Ebonhawke is convinced to continue by the leaders involved in this process. Warmaster Efut really seems to know what she’s doing and Baron Lartus keeps insisting how vital this mission is.

While some people ride in wagons or upon some animals they brought, most are forced to walk. This includes all three members of Blood Bond, but as they are already used to long travelling distances, they don’t seem to mind. Due to this choice, they see an opportunity to accompany Veilidh and Sieran on the ground.  
It’s pretty clear that Veil is still somewhat skeptical of the idea that her precious little sister is involved with anyone, but she also can’t deny that Sovica has shown to be a very pleasant and polite person so far. The noblewoman obviously does nothing to give the engineer any other ideas either.

During a time when discussions of the summit die down, Sov decides to open up for another topic, one she has been thinking about for a while.  
“Excuse me, Magisters,” she says while facing them, “do you know of the memorial put up at the remnants of Regent Valley to the west? The one dedicated to humans that fell in Ascalon’s defense?”

Veil looks somewhat doubtful, but Sieran offers her a small smile.  
“Oh, yes, I remember hearing about that. I believe it was commissioned by some other Magister of our Order? Sadly, neither of us have had the time go there yet. We’ve been too busy with planning our own journey.”

“Ah, I see. Makes sense, I suppose.  
Well, whenever you return to the Priory, could you possibly take a message back with you? I would like to extend my personal gratitude to the creators for their efforts. I never believed that the people who lived in that region – my family’s old clan especially – would be honored in such a way, but it filled my heart with joy.”

Veil mirrors her other sister’s expression and nods.  
“Of course, we can! We’d be glad to deliver it, as they’ll be happy to hear you appreciated their work.  
That said, if you ever want to go for a visit to our organization, I’m sure they’ll welcome you too. We’re always open to those with a mind for scholarly pursuits.”

Travelling to the Priory’s headquarters? It’s certainly an intriguing notion, even if Sov probably has a lot of other things to do first.  
“I do like that idea and I’d definitely want to someday.”  
She turns to glance at her girlfriend.  
“Perhaps Dae and I can go together, since I’m sure she would want to as well.”

Daeynwe smiles brightly at her beloved and shuts the short distance between them, entwining their arms.  
“Yes, absolutely! It’ll mean more mountain climbing, but that’s another adventure, if you ask me!”

And they all know by now that adventures are pretty much what she lives for.  
However, by mentioning this, it appears that they’ve triggered another interest in Veil. Or perhaps a concern.  
“Hmm. Now that we’re speaking of your relationship, there are some things I’m curious about in that regard. If you don’t mind my inquiries.”

Dae leans her head back in annoyance and rolls her eyes.  
“How did I know your questions weren’t over?”

Thankfully, Sov offers a gentler approach.  
“We don’t, Magister. Ask away.”

“Well”, Veil starts, “I have to admit that I haven’t seen all too many sylvari and humans together; hardly any at all, in fact. It’s rather…interesting for that reason.”

“Are you saying you think there’s something wrong with such interactions?”

Veil quickly shakes her head.  
“Not at all! Just unusual, much thanks to how different we are.  
I mean, I can certainly see the appeal from a physical standpoint. You humans are quite similar to us in shapes and assets, and I personally know many that I find very attractive. I’ve even been intimate with a few in the past.”

It’s an interesting thing to hear her admit…for most of them. Dae, however, doesn’t seem to agree and she grimaces.  
“…Veil, do you really have to do this here?”

“What? It’s the truth - I have been.”

“Yes, but…is it necessary for you to brag about your sexual exploits?”

Veil arches her brow amusedly and folds her arms. There’s now a smirk on her lips.  
“Oh, I see. So, when I want to call you Petal, then the sister argument is invalid, but when it comes to my intimate actions, it’s suddenly the opposite?”

It’s perhaps not very surprising that Sov finds this situation quite amusing, based on her giggling.  
“Well, at least I can see that you as sisters share an interest.  
Also, I can understand why you think it would be curious and I don’t mind answering any questions regarding our feelings. Personally, I find my relationship with Dae very fulfilling.”

Veil redirects her attention to Sov in a more solemn manner.  
“I see. And it doesn’t bother you how different we are in other physical aspects? Our anatomy doesn’t quite match, after all. You humans are softer and warmer than we are, plus you have all sorts of hair growths and such that we don’t.”

She isn’t wrong per se, but Sov realizes that Veil may be looking at this the wrong way, or at least different from hers.  
“You’re right, of course and there are a few other differences between us, but it doesn’t really matter to me. In fact, some of it makes for a more exciting interaction.  
But most of all, you are still very similar to us in what you do, sense, consume and think. You have emotions and personalities just like us, we create bonds and opinions in comparable ways. And sure, kissing Dae is not like kissing one of my own based on texture, but the motions and feelings involved in the process are very similar – just like you said, there is an appeal between us.”  
She slowly turns to look at her girlfriend, seeing how the youngest sylvari views her too, with adoring eyes.  
“Dae is sweet, supportive, brave and optimistic. When she encounters dangers and difficulties, she doesn’t back down, but faces them head on. I love that about her and it’s something I now can’t live without.”

During the process of saying all of this, Dae’s face starts to glow somewhat shyly, even if she enjoys the words. She makes sure that their hands become interwoven too.  
“And you know I always will be here, for as long as you want me, darling.”

Sov smiles and then briefly shuts her eyes as she tilts her head closer. Dae does the same and they lean their foreheads against each other in a soft and pleasant way. When they part, there’s a small smirk on Sov’s lips.  
“Though, I will admit that she sometimes scares me when she throws herself into certain overly hazardous situations.”

Veil seems to know exactly what she’s talking about, and sighs.  
“Oh, by the Dream, yes. I know that feeling all too well.”

Dae once more has to roll her eyes.  
“You two are way too overprotective, you know. I have survived every encounter, haven’t I?”

Sov narrows her eyes and raises a hand in response, to poke Dae’s nose.  
“That can’t last forever, not at this rate. I hope you’ll be mindful of that in the future.”

To Dae’s relief, Sov does not mention that she almost died last time, even if that’s sort of what she’s indicating here. It appears she has understood how much Veil cares for Dae and if she heard about that incident…well, she’d probably be very adamant that her little sister doesn’t go anywhere from now on. Sov doesn’t want that, as she prefers to have her girlfriend at her side.  
Unfortunately, the engineer isn’t quite done yet.

“What do you think your family will say?”, Veil asks. “You’re not just any human, but nobility too. Are relationships, blood and marriage not quite important among such circles?”

A reasonable subject to question, which makes Sov hesitate. Not a good prospect, as needs to get defensive. She has to be, for future confrontation.  
“That…is definitely true to a certain extent. We do have laws that pertain to heirs and they are not specifically tied to bloodlines, but that is still sort of the social norm. I would be lying if I said that such problems haven’t been on my mind. My family especially can be very difficult about this.  
In fact, I wasn’t even allowed to come here, so I had to go on my own.”

Not quite what the two sylvari sisters had expected to hear.  
Sieran blinks confusedly.  
“…wait, you ran away from home?”

“…something like that.”

While Veil isn’t sure what to make of that response, Sieran tilts her head back and laughs.  
“Amazing! I love it!”

“Hmm”, Veil emits skeptically. “Not so sure I agree. I would prefer that my dear sister doesn’t get involved in the political games among human nobility. I’ve heard that can get very nasty.”

At this point, Sov can try to argue for why it’s still preferable, but she leaves it instead to Dae to do so. The younger sylvari already looks pretty determined, after all.  
“Well, that’s not really up to you, is it?”, she says. “I’m serious about this relationship and I will defend my position next to Sovi whenever I can, whether it’s against you or her family. I’m here to stay and you’ll all have to deal with that.”

Even if it should be seen as brave, Veil only looks more troubled. In contrast, Sov seems very pleased and she lifts her free hand to caress Dae’s cheek, before she leans closer in order to kiss her girlfriend eagerly. At least Veil will admit they look sweet together.  
“I almost forgot that I love your passion too”, Sov whispers to her. She then redirects her attention to Veil again.  
“I’m on her side. This may be a social battle of sorts, to preserve our unity, but I don’t care. We will take that fight head on.”

“Damn right!”, Dae exclaims with a grin.

Well, it’s not like Veil can be skeptical of how they support each other, but she still has other concerns to raise.  
“Alright, Dae, since you’re so confident in your position, then maybe you can answer a question as a sylvari too. Are you not affected by Sovica’s lack of connection to the Dream? You’ll never feel the same link to her that you do with us, you know.”

In response, Dae starts by shrugging.  
“I know that, but contrary to what you’re thinking, it actually makes me excited. I realize that many of our kind prefer the comfort and warmth of the Pale Tree and our mental connections. I know it’s the same with you and Caithe, for example, but it’s not really an issue for me. I love adventure, I love diversity and the idea of having something that others don’t.”

“Perhaps, but this thrill won’t last forever, Petal.”

She isn’t entirely sure if using the nickname is supposed to be condescending or just to rile her up a bit, but Dae tries to maintain her composure regardless.  
“Look, I’m not saying I want action and excitement every day. In fact, living in peace with Sovi sounds very appealing too.  
You haven’t known her for very long yet, but she’s amazing. She’s honorable, kind, charismatic and intelligent. The things she can do are abilities I’ve never experienced before, and I’d love to get the chance to be part of her family. Just think about all the possibilities!”

Veil appears mostly contemplative at that statement, while Sov smiles even wider than previously.  
“A sylvari among the Vlasics would be…very exciting. Not just due to social and political aspects, but historical connotations. Our clan used to invite outsiders to join us all the time, both in Elona and Ascalon, though never non-humans.”

“Well”, they hear the engineer saying, “even if you both seem to like it, I remain doubtful of this development.  
However, I admit that I can’t do much about it. You have the right to live your lives as you wish, and I don’t want to oppose that. If either of you two need help, though, you can always contact me. I am here for you, Petal, and anyone you love.”

That makes Dae happy to hear at least.  
“Thanks, sis. I’m sure we will send an invitation to our wedding, whenever it is”, she tells Veil with a teasing wink at the end.

As this particular discussion comes to a close, it appears that Veil has drawn the attention of Katla.  
“Excuse me. Dae mentioned Caithe. Did she mean the one in Destiny’s Edge?”

Veil blinks and looks up at the much taller woman, before she clears her throat.  
“Uh, yes. Caithe and I…share a bond.”

Sieran smirks and bumps her shoulder into her sister’s arm.  
“She means they love each other very much.”

“…I wasn’t trying to deny it.”

Katla nods slowly, with a thoughtful look in her eyes.  
“Does that mean you’ve met Eir Stegalkin?”

“Oh, yes, of course! Only once or twice, though. Why? Curious about her?”

“Well, I know her.”

Veil arches her brow in mild surprise.  
“You know her?”

“Eir has been a close friend of my sister and I since we were children. We have experienced a lot of things together. Some of the best and worst years of my life was with her.”

“Hmm. Sounds to me like there might be more to it, then.”

Katla becomes even more distant for a short while then, but eventually disrupts this with a shrug.  
“That…was on my mind, once. We’re friends now, nothing else.”

It’s not like she needs to say anymore, as Veil appears to understand the sentiment.  
“Sieran and I met Eir a couple of years back for the first time, after they had created Destiny’s Edge. It was during a period when I had some difficulties with Caithe.  
Eir gave me some advice that I hadn’t really asked for, yet realized later that I needed. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that. She helped me through the complications, whether she meant to or not.”

It appears that Katla is somewhat amused by that, at least based on the snort she emits.  
“Sounds like Eir to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, Veilidh did say she wouldn't stand in the way of Daeynwe and Sovica's relationship. Doesn't mean she won't question it, though._


	8. Familial flames

While the journey from Ebonhawke has already started, due to a slightly longer distance to wander, the joint group of Vigil and charr troops just recently departed from Deathblade’s Watch, marching together towards the peace summit.  
Compared to the grumbling among humans, there are very few protests here, save perhaps from Ovillus. Most of these people are trained soldiers, used to harsh environments. That includes the workers, chefs, riders and similar roles, which might be regarded as civilians by others.

Well, it’s not like everything is entirely silent. A few sour looks and comments are offered towards the weather, as some charr aren’t entirely happy with the snowfall that has now begun in the area. It’s cold, windy and foggy, worse so than usual. Thankfully, Rytlock manages to maintain control over his troops with ease, as no one seems willing to challenge his authority. He’s a curt, but respectable leader. People know of his capabilities and experiences, either through directly witnessing them or from rumors.

Except for a few riders on wagons, pretty much everyone else has to go on foot. During that process, the three members of Blood Bond decides that it might be wise to stay close to one of their few friendly allies. As they move up to Cragthea’s location, they see that she’s speaking to one of the scouts, who relays some information to her.

“We spotted the ogres to the north, ma’am, two pretty sizeable herds.”

Crag lifts one of her paws and strokes a few claws around her mouth.  
“Hmm. Threat assessment?”

“Pretty low, I expect. They didn’t seem ready to come any closer, probably due to the size of our forces. It’s not every day you see half an army marching like this through the fields.”

The Centurion nods slightly in agreement.  
“You’re probably right. They likely won’t dare assault us as long as we keep our weapons visible and stay alert. Keep an eye on them, though, just in case. Update me if the situation changes.”

The scout salutes.  
“Yes, Centurion!”, he exclaims, before quickly returning to his post.

Once he’s gone, Crag smiles when she spots the other people approaching her. For now, she doesn’t have anyone else at her side.  
“Ah, and here come our heroes. How’re you doing in this fine weather? Thought I heard a few noises from your direction earlier.”

Ovillus sighs and lowers his head.  
“Absolutely miserable! My people are not designed for this type of environment! We originate from underground tunnels! It’s preposterous that I am expected to march in this fashion.”

Rea merely laughs at Ovillus' complaints, before she smirks at Crag.  
“If you think this is cold, Centurion, I doubt your people really knows the meaning of that word.”

Her boasting makes Crag grin.  
“Hah! Should’ve figured a norn wouldn’t be bothered by a little snow. Gotta say that it’s kinda impressive how you guys manage to endure it, though, having no fur and all. How do you stay warm? I see you have some animal fur on your coat, but not much else.”

She doesn’t mention that there’s also some exposed skin on Rea’s arms, neck and chest, which is pretty unusual for other humanoids, such as humans.  
“Well, we do have some natural resistance to the cold, since we’ve always lived in this type of climate, but our bodies can also easily build up internal heat.”

“Really now?”, Crag says with an amused tilt of her head. “I wonder how you guys go about doing that.”

Razok, who stands on the other side of Rea, clears his throat.  
“…I don’t think I wanna hear more.”

Unfortunately, Rea actually finds it pretty amusing that he gets uncomfortable, which is why she continues.  
“You sure? I can tell you some great stories when I was out in the cold with some fun people. Most of them involve hardly any clothes.”

“No thank you!”

After the two women have both laughed at his embarrassment for a little while, Rea redirects her attention to the Centurion again.  
“So, Crag, do you mind if I ask some questions about you and Razok? We met your mother months ago now, but she wasn’t exactly very talkative. Or friendly.”

Crag snorts and turns her head forward, eyes becoming a little distant.  
“Yeah, no surprise there. Our mom is very focused on the Legions, her work and to make sure our enemies never gain the upper hand. She trusts very few people, especially not outsiders like you.”

“Figured as much. I’ve talked to Raz about her and I’m impressed that someone with her talents managed to reach so far. Magic-users do find a little bit of opposition among you, right?”

Crag nods quickly.  
“More than a little. Not like anyone actively tries to stop them, but…they often face suspicion. Less so in Ash than Blood, but it’s still not painless. I guess mom had it somewhat easier because she’s not an elementalist, but I wouldn’t say she’s particularly well-liked in general. She’s respected, perhaps even feared in certain cases.  
I think her merits is what secured her this position, though. She isn’t just a very talented necromancer, but she’s ready to do pretty much anything in order to gain victory and preserve Legion dominance. Did Raz ever tell you about her sire?”

Rea glances at the engineer and he seems to hesitate slightly.  
“Uh, no, I didn’t. Wasn’t sure if it was appropriate.”

The Centurion merely shrugs, not being as bothered by such concerns, apparently.  
“I don’t think she’d mind, or even care.”

Glancing between the two siblings for a second, Rea eventually folds her arms and addresses the older.  
“Well, if you want to tell us, I’m at least very interested.”

“I think the best way to explain our mother’s mentality is to tell you of an event in her younger years. She took down her sire – our grandfather, as you would call it.”

Both Rea and Ovillus look fairly surprised then.  
“Eh…reverse for a moment”, says Ovillus, “By ‘took down’, do you mean…?”

The humor has dispersed from Crag at this point, but she doesn’t look particularly grim or so, just a little pensive.  
“Yeah. Basically, her sire deserted his warband for the sake of a comrade. The Flame Legion had captured this friend for some reason and our grandsire wanted to rescue him. Mom helped out and they succeeded with the mission, but…well, unfortunately, her sire had still broken the laws of the Legion. His superiors decided that he must be punished, and execution was chosen as the method.  
Mom refused to let that happen. She demanded that her sire get to die like a soldier and therefore thought the Bane – an arena inside the Black Citadel – was more appropriate. They agreed, but only if she conducted the fight herself.”

Rea seems virtually shocked to hear these words, not having been ready for such a grim outcome.  
“Wow, that’s-…I don’t even know what to say. They thought it was okay to tell their soldier that she must face her father in battle?”

Crag shrugs in return.  
“That’s just how we do things. Mom didn’t want her sire to be completely dishonored, even in death.”

“Yeah, I guess I understand, but still. To kill your own father…”

Despite the manner in which she has talked about it up until now, Crag actually sighs.  
“I know. To be honest, I’m not sure I could’ve done the same in her position; guess I’m too much of a softie when it comes to family. Our mother, though, she…has different ideals.”

They have heard some stories of Centra, which often paints her in a pretty harsh light, but none that go to this level. Rea doesn’t wish to believe she’s completely heartless, or else she wouldn’t have cared about her father at all, but it also makes the ranger fear for Raz.  
She looks at the engineer now, and he stares at the ground, his ears lowered somewhat. It seems both of the siblings have heard the story before and neither of them are particularly enthralled by it.

“Hmm. What about your father, then?”, Rea asks. “Does he share her views?”

It’s apparently a good question, as it manages to brighten Crag’s mood somewhat. She chuckles and shakes her head.  
“Definitely not. He’s a lot more easy-going, but also not much of a perfect soldier.  
His name is Bentok Glareslash, Legionnaire of the Slash warband in the Blood Legion. He’s been fighting for a long time now and we generally get along with him a lot better.”

Rea nods in thought to begin with, but then arches her brow confusedly.  
“Wait, Legionnaire? Are you…your father’s superior?”

Crag turns her eyes towards the norn and smirks.  
“He’s not assigned to me, but yeah, I am.”

“Uh, how does that feel?”

“Heh, weird at times, I’ll admit. He’s a nice guy, though, filled with humor and good stories - pretty much the opposite of mom. That said, he’s not the best at his job. He’s kind of messy and quite forgetful. Prefers to fight rather than give orders, which annoys some of his superiors.”

Raz is smiling as he considers some of these angles as well.  
“He’s also pretty supportive. Whenever we meet, he always wants to see some of my gadgets, even if he doesn’t understand them.”

Rea is glad that they have a healthy relationship with one of their parents at least, even if it confuses her.  
“They sound like completely different people. How in the Mists did those two have children? Can’t imagine them falling in love somehow.”

Crag dismisses such thoughts with a wave of her paw.  
“Oh, no. It was not about romance and not pleasure either – mom has no interest in mating, except for getting cubs. She also doesn’t think our dad was worth keeping around for any extended affairs.”

“Okay, uh, then why would she get children with him? Or cubs.”

“Because he’s a big and strong warrior, and mom thought his genes would be useful. The reason I’m so large is all due to his size. Raz developed more like mom, though.”

Rea slowly shakes her head, feeling like she understands Centra less for every time she hears a new story.  
“Right. But you didn’t go the same path as your father, though, did you? You’re not a typical warrior, anyway.”

“Nope, sure didn’t.”

“You mentioned the Guardian stuff earlier. Isn’t that pretty unusual for charr?”

Crag runs one of her paws through her mane, correcting some of its spiky appearance and pushing the snow out of it.  
“Well, sort of. It’s not entirely unheard of, but there are not too many of us, no. Like I said when we first met, some respect or fear me for it.  
I spent a few years in training when I was younger, after my superiors gave me and a bunch of others permission for it. They needed some people with those talents.”  
She snorts and whips her tail back and forth.  
“I still remember those days – it was hell. The exercises are gruesome and painful, not to mention some of the strangest stuff you’ll ever experience. Half of it is not all too dissimilar from what our warriors go through, but then you have to combine it with loads of reading and magical rituals. Gave me a headache some days.”

The norn does not appear all too surprised, as she recalls certain memories of what her sister told her in the past.  
“Yeah, I know roughly what you went through. I never saw it myself, but Katla used to tell me stories. She never went into detail, though, as it was a little bit secretive.”

“Mm, that’s what they do. Apparently, it’s better to go in without too much prior knowledge, which is why the techniques are kept hidden from outsiders.”

“If you were so weirded out, though, why did want to do it in the first place?”

Surprisingly, Crag suddenly gains a slightly wistful look on her face.  
“Well, I suppose the real reason was due to a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah. When I was a cub in the fahrar, our Primus usually took us to Diessa in order to practice. At one point, we met a Guardian for the first time, a norn from somewhere up the mountains. He impressed us all with his strange and dangerous magic, me most of all. He seemed like a cool guy, despite being kinda arrogant.  
However, when I told him that I wanted to become like him, he laughed at me. Said that charr do not have the mental capacity or focus to become Guardians.”

They hear Raz chuckling.  
“Basically an idiot. You don’t tell my sister that she can’t do something.”

Crag grins and clenches her claws.  
“I was furious afterwards, outraged that some big asshole thought he was better than me. So, in response, I made it my mission to prove him wrong. Not only that, I vowed that I’d become better than him, so that I could return one day and beat his tail.”

Rea raises one of her eyebrows and smirks at Crag.  
“Wait, so, you chose this combat style out of spite?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Raz snorts.  
“That’s my sister in a nutshell.”

The confident expression on the Centurion does not disperse, even when she shrugs.  
“Well, in the end, I did win. A couple of years back, I found him and challenged him to a duel. Don’t think I need to mention the end results. Let’s just say, he had tears in his eyes.”

Rea suddenly erupts in laughter, which echoes over the area.  
“I don’t know how you do it, Crag, but I keep liking you more and more, the longer time we spend together.”


	9. Resurfacing consensus

And so, finally, they have arrived. It seemed almost like an impossible prospect that they’d all reach the peace summit safely and get the chance to experience the potential end of this lengthy war, without some type of mistake. Of course, the overall negotiations haven’t yet begun, so there are still plenty of opportunities for chaos to erupt, but seeing how the two sides manage to be in one place at the same time, without having immediately open conflict, is quite encouraging.

It cannot be denied how much the Vigil’s presence affects this particular scenario, though. In fact, the organization has already set up a large central tent, along with all kinds of banners representing the various sub-factions within the two sides. On top of this, they also prepared locations for two separate camps, knowing that the humans and charr would want to operate independently for now.  
It appears the Vigil troops take their roles as mediators very seriously, wanting to stop any potential fighting and push the focus towards the more important aspect. If they do not unite, then the races across Tyria will never be able to defeat the elder dragons, the true enemies of all living entities.

However, while this may be the most critical element for the majority of people at this location, the members of Blood Bond are distracted by another aspect – reunion.  
It is Sovica, Katla and Daeynwe who set up their camp first, somewhat in between the human and charr, closer to the Vigil than either side. It seemed wise to avoid potential conflicts. During this process, all of them suddenly hear footsteps coming from the east, followed by a shout.

“Katla!”

The tallest member of the group blinks and straightens her back, after she was correcting her own tent somewhat. She turns just in time to see how a very familiar figure runs straight for her.  
“Rea. I was wondering when-“

She’s interrupted as the ranger suddenly leaps at her. Rea laughs and wraps her arms around Katla’s neck, hugging her tightly and kisses her cheek. Thankfully, the older sister is sturdy enough not to fall.  
“I’ve missed you so much! There were a lot of things over there I wish you could’ve seen. You’ll have to come with us and check them out later.”

Katla sighs and rolls her eyes, feeling kinda stupid, due to how physical Rea gets. Doesn’t stop her from returning the embrace, though, of course.  
“…do you have to be so loud about this? People are watching”, she grumbles.

Rea tilts her head back and arches her brow skeptically.  
“So?”

“…it’s awkward.”

The annoyed look Katla gives her only makes Rea even more excited, and she soon grins in return.  
“Oh c’mon, you can’t say you haven’t missed me too! Bet you were worried for me the entire time.”

The older sister stares at her for a few seconds, hoping that it will be enough, but Rea clearly wants a response.  
“Yeah, yeah, but…you’re a bit too clingy sometimes.”

She should’ve realized how foolish it was to speak such words, for Rea now obviously embraces her once more, practically cuddling into her.  
“Nonsense! You love my hugs, don’t deny it.”

While Katla refuses to admit anything, she feels another touch further down and notices some white fur. Grawdr has approached her legs and is embracing her as well, while rubbing his nose against her thigh. He seems eager to be with his companion’s family member too.  
“I hate that you’re both the same.”

After taking a small step back, Rea diverts her eyes to the rest of the group. Razok and Ovillus are close behind, of course, but walking in a slower pace. The ranger specifically directs her eyes towards the only human, though.  
“She has behaved, right?”

Sov smirks and folds her arms, glancing amusedly at Katla.  
“Yeah, don’t worry, I made sure to watch her the entire time. Kept her out of trouble.”

Katla emits a heavy sigh.  
“Can you two stop? This is ridiculous. I am the oldest here, so I am not the most obvious troublemaker.”

“Tsk. You’re only the oldest in physical age.”

It seems Rea agrees, based on the widened grin.  
“Hah! I’m glad you were there, Sovi. Katla can be such a disaster around people.”

Naturally, she gains a glare from her sister.  
“Shut up.”

After the two sisters are done, Sov’s face shifts into a gentler smile instead, as she directs herself towards Ovillus.  
“It’s good to see you too, Professor. I missed you in Ebonhawke. Your insights would’ve been most enlightening.”

The asura folds his arms and inclines his head.  
“And I yours at our location. It would have been pleasant to have another intellectual there.”

“Did you learn a lot in Deathblade’s Watch?”

She’s not sure what she had expected, but the sigh and the exhausted expression may have been one option.  
“Oh, far too much, I’m afraid. I sincerely regret my choice of destination, after all we have endured.”

“Oh? What went wrong?”

“Do you know how boisterous a charr settlement can get? I never spent all too much time in the Black Citadel, but this was utterly ludicrous!  
And their beds are preposterous! I do not believe the creator of those contraptions has ever studied the principles of ergonomics, but someone needs to teach them, and soon! And don’t get me started on the excessive alcoholic tendencies…”

Raz snorts and his tail whips back and forth in slight annoyance when he views the necromancer.  
“Hey, just because you were uncomfortable with all they had to offer, that doesn’t mean we have a problem. Just points to the fact that you don’t fit in, Professor. You’re not made for Legion life.”

Ovillus folds his arms and turns his head away sharply.  
“Indubitably.”

It's easy to assume not everyone had a great time there, and they probably didn’t get along perfectly. Despite this slight bickering, Sov starts to laugh.  
“It’s unfortunate you didn’t enjoy yourself”, she says after she has calmed down. “Was it educational, though, at least?”

It appears Ovillus is reluctant to admit anything regarding being wrong about his interest, but maybe that is colored by the minor inconveniences he suffered.  
“Well, I…suppose it was, to a certain extent. I don’t believe I am the appropriate candidate to conduct extended studies, however.”

“Perhaps not. That said, I would love to take you to Ebonhawke at some point. There are lots of elements of history, architecture, social structures and art that I believe you would find most intriguing. I only had a brief time to study them myself, so we could go do it together at some point.”

He nods briefly in agreement.  
“You will get no argument from me. I would relish the opportunity.”

Wanting to create some kind of bridge between them, or at least show that she’s interested, Sov also turns her eyes towards Raz.  
“Oh, and personally, I’d love to get the chance to visit Deathblade’s Watch myself someday. I realize that probably won’t be easy to arrange, but it would be very exciting. Outside of Folly’s Breach, I’ve never been to a charr town before.”

She manages to summon a smile from Raz as well, as he nods at her.  
“Hey, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we can speak to some of my superiors or my sister about it, see if we can’t bring you in safely. If we manage to get peace negotiations going, I’m sure that won’t be impossible.”

It’s a particular section of his sentences that gets Sov’s attention, who blinks confusedly.  
“Wait, back up. Your sister?”

“Yeah, Centurion Cragthea Slagmarrow, my older sister from the Blood Legion. She’s the head of security here among the Legion troops, actually. I can introduce you later, if you want.”

“Oh, I’d love to! As long as she’s not going to yell at us, like your mother did.”

“Heh, that won’t be an issue - she’s cool.  
She may try to lift you up, though. Don’t ask about it, long story.”

While they stand there talking, it appears the discussion of sisters ignites something in Daeynwe, and the sylvari suddenly hurries up to Raz. She pats his arm and shakes it excitedly.  
“Oh yeah, Raz! You have to come with us later too! Veilidh, my sister, is here!”

He’s somewhat surprised by her eagerness, but his ears twitches in recognition of what she tells him.  
“Wait, are you talking about the engineer that designed your gun?”

“That’s the one! We didn’t expect she’d be here too, but she’s doing something with another sister of hers, called Sieran. They aim to explore some kind of ruins in the region, but have made camp in the vicinity to stick around for a short while, before they depart.  
This is your chance to meet her and discuss…uh, whatever technical nonsense you two like to babble about. I’m sure it’ll be fun!”

Raz raises one of his eyebrows and smirks slightly.  
“You mean discuss weapons design and engineering? In that case, yeah, I think that might be pretty interesting. I really need to ask her about the specifications of what she created for you, as it was definitely a pretty unique one.”

“I’m sure she’d love to! I find it very boring, but Veilidh can discuss theories and debate specifics for hours.”

In the middle of all the fun they’re having with their reunion, Katla suddenly clears her throat, with enough volume that all of them turn to look at her. Her arms are folded and there’s a serious expression on her face.  
“Don’t mean to interrupt your plans, but we’ve also got important stuff to deal with.”  
She glances at the half of the team that she wasn’t in.  
“Did you guys discover anything at the Watch?”

A solemn emotion flows over the group then, likely what Katla intended. They know what she’s talking about, of course, as it is the reason they’re all here.  
“Not directly”, Rea admits. “We looked around a lot, spoke with some people, sat down and drank with them, but we couldn’t see anything suspicious. All of the charr seemed to be following orders and were ready to do what’s necessary.”

At the same time, Dae moves in behind Sov, slipping arms around the human’s waist and rests her chin on the elementalist’ left shoulder. Sov raises a hand to run her fingers through Dae's hair, while she responds.  
“Yeah, it was same situation at Ebonhawke. I don’t think that points towards anything in particular, though. The conspiracy may be much deeper than we expected, and traitors might merely be very good at hiding their true intentions. We will have to keep our eyes open.”

Most of the others naturally agree. Their task is not over until they know that the summit has proceeded peacefully, without interruptions.  
Ovillus moves his arms behind his back and looks up towards the engineer.  
“Razok, you are likely somewhat more familiar with this area than the rest of us. Do you have any suggestions for how we proceed during the initial negotiations?”

Raz seems somewhat troubled as he raises a claw to scratch his cheek.  
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know much about this particular territory. It used to be pretty empty and I’ve only occasionally travelled through it.”

“You must have some tactical advice, though, correct? You are the most military-minded among us.”

He takes a deep breath and nods.  
“True. Well, I wonder if it’s not a good idea to stay pretty close to the delegations, in case something bad happens. Seems stupid, since there are so many guards, but you never know what these people might do.  
I think it’s wise if we put a few lookouts around the place, to get a bird’s eye view. Rea has the sharpest observational skills, so she could try to find a higher altitude to stay at.”

The ranger smiles.  
“Shouldn’t be a problem, yeah. There’s a decent array of trees and rocks nearby, that I think I can use.”

“Dae is pretty small and quick, easily able to slip through the cracks. I think it’s best if we keep her at ground level, among the outer layers of the people who will be watching. She’ll get a view from the shadows.”

The rogue grins and offers Raz a thumbs-up, while still staying close to her girlfriend.  
“Sounds good to me! They won’t even see me coming.”

“I also believe it’s smart to put those with best defensive capabilities among the leaders. Katla could stand by to protect Rytlock, while Sovi’s magic would be very useful next to the human delegate, whatever his name was.”

Sov smiles and leans back somewhat against Dae, feeling safe in her arms.  
“Baron Lartus. And yes, I can do that.”

Katla crosses her arms.  
“Rytlock is a tough guy, but even he can’t defend himself against blades or guns from every angle. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Good”, says Raz. “As for me and the Professor, I think we could sit somewhere in the middle, joining the rest of the audience from either side. It won’t be big, but it’ll be enough for us to blend in, see what occurs on that level.”

Ovillus clears his throat.  
“I do hope the chairs will be at an appropriate height, but I believe I can adapt.”

“Right, I guess that’s the plan then, for now anyway. Everyone agree?”

“Agreed”, they say in unison.

“The plan is sound and simple”, Sov tells them, “and now we just have to keep watch. The negotiations start tomorrow at noon. Until then, we should all eat and get some sleep, to prepare ourselves.”


	10. The gaze of separation

Noon has arrived on this fairly cold winter day, one that appears to be like most others, but carry a special significance due to a certain event. Within the center of the Fields of Ruin, it is heralded by the sound of trumpets and drums, albeit not specifically out of celebratory reasons. Instead, it feels almost ceremonial, in anticipation for what is about to occur. For those who watch from the outside, it might be difficult to understand what’s going on, but the fates of hundreds of thousands may alter on this very day.

The central tent in this gathering is one of the few entities here that is actually being protected from the elements, infused with fires and magic that heat up the people inside. That doesn’t mean they don’t wear warm clothes, of course, but merely that they don’t have to be distracted by the weather.  
In the middle, several large tables have been placed for important people to sit, and around the edges of the tent’s interior hangs banner from all types of origins – Ash Legion, Blood Legion, Iron Legion, Divinity’s Reach, Ebonhawke and a few more.

A few meters away from the tables are several spectator seats, meant for Legion officers and human officials that want to watch the proceedings. Commander Samuelsson – Duke of Ebonhawke – has sent his representatives here as well. Some had actually hoped that he would come himself, but it is pretty clear that there are certain trust issues still present. It’s not like Imperator Smodur has chosen to attend either, which surprises no one.

At the main tables in the middle, there are a few chairs. These are not just meant for the delegates, but their advisors as well. One might’ve expected that Cragthea would get one of those seats, but as head of security, she must have a better view of the area and therefore remains standing.  
She is not the only one watching, though, of course. Rea is currently positioned in a tree outside the tent, being able to look through the gaps. Daeynwe wanders around the edge of the meeting area, like a prying shadow.

Katla is standing only a few meters behind the charr delegation table, her arms folded and her stern eyes sweeping the tent. At the same time, Sovica has actually managed to convince the human delegate to grant her a seat at the main table as an advisor, even if she has the one furthest out. She is new, after all.  
As for Ovillus and Razok, both of them have gotten positions among the spectators, conversing with some of those in the closest chairs through hushed voices. Everyone waits for the proceedings to start.

Eventually, Warmaster Efut walks towards the center and loudly clears her throat.  
“May I ask for your silence and attention please? Quiet down, everyone! We are about to begin.”  
The majority within follows her instructions, turning towards the asura.  
“That’s better. Welcome, members of the High Legions and the human nations of Kryta and Ebonhawke, to the first official peace meeting. Here, today, we hope to set an example by crafting a lasting truce between your two peoples and finally end this conflict which has gone on for far too long.  
My name is Warmaster Efut, and I represent the Vigil, which I am sure most of you have already seen around the area. If you have need of us, we are at the disposal of both sides.  
Now then! Let me welcome the main delegates.”  
She gestures at the two sides, where a few more people are entering.  
“Representing the High Legions is Tribune Rytlock Brimstone of the Blood Legion, former member of the famed dragon hunter guild Destiny's Edge. Representing the human nation of Kryta is Baron Cramon Lartus of Queen’s Forest, chief diplomat of Queen Jennah.”

When the Baron enters, he smiles at the assembled people, as well as Rytlock, and bows gracefully. The Tribune himself merely grunts and waves lazily with his hand.  
“Let’s get on with this already, shall we?”

Cramon tilts his head backwards and laughs.  
“Such refreshing bluntness! I almost forgot how much I enjoy charr company. I like your style, Tribune.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do”, he mutters.

As they move towards the seats, Sov walks not too far from the Baron and briefly glances around the area. She smiles and waves at her girlfriend in the outskirts, as well as winking at Raz.  
When they all sit down, Efut moves aside to get to their own post as one of the guards. Naturally, the Baron is the first one to speak, with a rather charming tone.  
“Let me just begin by saying that I am most honored to be here. It is a privilege to finally start these peace negotiations with your people. I sincerely hope this will be a fruitful endeavor.”

Rytlock looks a little bit uncomfortable, mostly because he has chosen to wear the majority of his armor. He sighs and shrugs briefly.  
“Guess the end result depends on what yours are ready to do. It’s not like we’re gonna surrender Ascalon to you.”

Cramon seems highly entertained by the notion.  
“Hah! Is that what you believe I was sent here for, Tribune?”

“You never know. Your nation has been dead for 250 years and yet you’re still here.”

His crass statement makes a few humans frown or clench their fists. Thankfully, the Baron retains his rather friendly expression.  
“Well, in that case, let me reassure you that there is no reason to fret. We do, of course, wish to keep Ebonhawke where it is, but we do not demand more. I’m sure there are other features we can negotiate for, which both of our peoples can benefit from.”

“Like what?”

“Trade routes, defensive pacts, research exchange and more. I’m certain you can think of some things yourself, no? Conquest isn’t the only way to prosperity.”

Rytlock looks a little skeptical, but not completely opposed to the idea.  
“Hmm, maybe. We’d have to think about it.”

“Of course and that is why this is only an initial discussion, to see what we can accomplish together.”

The Tribune raises one of his paws and scratches a few claws under his chin.  
“Are you confident that you can really promise all this, though? The humans of old Ascalon has never been interested in giving up anything before.”

“True enough, but the same can be claimed of your people, can it not? You have always shown an eagerness to fight, over settling disputes with diplomacy.”

“To regain our lands, yeah.”

“Some might question how we measure who this land belongs to, though."

One female charr next to Rytlock snorts and then growls slightly in the Baron’s direction.  
“The Legions shouldn’t even be tolerating your arrogance. You humans lost the war and that means you should lose the land too. Ebonhawke should be removed already. We can’t allow a human fortress this close to our outposts.”

A few charr officers start to grumble in agreement, seeming to share her opinion.  
The Baron is about to retort, but a man at his side – some kind of Ebon Vanguard officer – stands up and points at her accusingly.  
“How dare you speak like that? You charr are even less trustworthy!  
Who was it that burned down the entirety of Ascalon and decimated human homes, huh? Who was ready to make deals with demonic creatures to greedily win lands for themselves?”

This man gets support from the humans in attendance, who start to raise their voices somewhat.  
The charr bares her fangs and stands up.  
“That was the act of the Flame Legion, not us! We can’t be blamed for their mistakes.”

“How convenient! And now you’re benefitting from their destruction, not caring about all the deaths they caused.  
Blood Legion, Flame Legion, whatever. Who cares? You’re all bloodthirsty mongrels!”

The room fills with tension then, as both charr and humans stand up from their seats, almost getting ready to fight before the talks have even properly begun. Thankfully, the delegates themselves are not people to be trifled with.  
Rytlock suddenly rises, slams his fist against the table and roars at the female, making her flinch.  
“Centurion! Were you the one sent here to negotiate on behalf of the High Legions?”

The other charr go silent and the female lowers her ears somewhat.  
“I…no, Tribune. You were.”

“And did I tell you to speak?!”

“N-no, Tribune, but-“

“ _Then keep your flaming maw shut!”_ , he shouts right in her face.

She lowers her head submissively, ears twitching somewhat, and soon resumes her previous position.  
“…yes, Tribune.”

No other charr dare to oppose Rytlock and immediately get back to their chairs.  
The Baron does not really want to be worse, even if he is not quite as fiercely aggressive as the Tribune. Cramon does still frown at the human officer, though.  
“Sit down, Captain. While I respect your position and advice, the Queen assigned me to lead these negotiations. And we intend to strive for peace, do we not?”

The Captain sighs, seeming a little rattled by Rytlock’s outburst too, but not enough to simply give in.  
“Yes, I know, Baron, but-“

“ _No_ , there will be none of that”, he says firmly. “Are you not interested in peace, Captain? Do you not wish to stop losing needless amounts of lives to this endless conflict? Unless you prefer to start another battle right here and now, I suggest you sit down and let me do my job.”

The officer hesitates, not seeming particularly glad about the entire outcome either, but realizes that he’s creating a mess that shouldn’t happen. He gets back to his seat too.  
“…of course, my lord. My apologies. I…wasn’t thinking.”

“Apology accepted. We all make hasty mistakes sometimes.”  
As Rytlock and Cramon effectively manage to dissolve the hostilities for now, Sov smiles, glad that they show such eagerness to make this work.  
The Baron does not sit down just yet, though. Instead, he continues to stand and looks at Rytlock.  
“This situation got quite heated, did it not? I suppose it was rather predictable."

Rytlock snorts amusedly and shrugs again.  
“That’s what you have to expect after centuries of war. Many aren’t ready to just lower their weapons.”

“Indeed, but this battle must end, both on the physical and mental plane. I believe it is time that I bring out my surprise.”

Apparently, the Tribune had not expected to hear that and arches his brow skeptically.  
“…surprise?”

Cramon smiles.  
“I have brought you a gift, Tribune, something I am certain your people will enjoy. I believe it will help provide insight, to show how adamant we are to commence a future friendship.”

He snaps his fingers and a few Seraph on the outer layers of the room starts to approach.  
Rytlock’s eyes are drawn in that direction somewhat tentatively.  
“It isn’t flowers, is it?”

That gets the Baron laughing, seemingly enjoying Rytlock’s humor.  
“I doubt that would be enough to charm a man like yourself.”

“I’m not all too picky.”  
However, both he and the rest of the charr are very interested when a large box is carried towards a third table in the middle, one without any chairs, and placed on top. The Seraph wait for another signal from the Baron and he inclines his head in approval.  
Once the lid flies open and the guards step aside, the charr widen their eyes in pure shock. This includes Rytlock.  
“Wh-what the-…  
Is…is that…?”

Cramon seems very pleased with every reaction in the tent. He puts his hands to his hips and nods, a winning smile on his lips.  
“Indeed, your eyes do not deceive you, Tribune – you are looking directly at the Claw of the Khan-Ur. The real one, taken from the depths of Ascalon City.”

Most charr are too shocked for words, while others whisper that this must be impossible. It appears they may have believed that it would be lost forever.  
Rytlock keeps staring at it, slowly shaking his head.  
“…burn me. How in the Mists did you find it?”

Cramon looks very proud while he continues.  
“We had a special team acquire it several weeks ago, in anticipation for this very event. We were partially responsible for your loss of it and it only seemed right that we helped return it to you.  
Like I said, Tribune, we are looking for peace, now more than ever.”

Rytlock raises a hand to the fur under his chin, suddenly appearing more interested than he has done during the entire visit to this camp.  
“…shit. Not quite sure what to say. I have a feeling that the Imperator will be-“

Unfortunately, he does not have time to consider anything else. Suddenly, chaos erupts as one of the charr in the audience swiftly rises from her seat and pulls out an axe she was hiding, despite the no-weapons policy for the spectators. Surprisingly, she advances on the Tribune’s table.  
“For the Legions!”, she shouts and prepares to toss it at the unarmed Tribune.

As one of the few allowed to carry a weapon, Katla unsheathes her blade, but she doesn’t have a good angle. Instead, aid comes from another location, as Sov saw the approach and immediately attempts to counteract it.  
As they’re still technically outside, the earth is available to her, and she manages to utilize her magic to summon a thin pillar of dirt from the ground, effectively blocking the axe’s approach and protects Rytlock.

Sadly, it appears this was part of the plan and she doesn’t realize that this was all a feint. Another charr from the other side stands up as well, but says nothing as he draws his pistol. He barely even needs to aim before he fires and hits the Baron straight in the neck, who falls to the ground.  
Sov widens her eyes in shock.  
“No!”

Katla grits her teeth and while its too chaotic for the others, she does not hesitate.  
She charges at the first attacker and swings her large greatsword in the same move, cutting a wide slash right across the charr’s chest. The assassin barely even has time to react and she tumbles backwards, bursting into the chair she was using. A pool of blood soon appears below her.  
As the second is about to turn and fire towards Rytlock or his advisors, Cragthea roars and charges him. She tackles him, knocking his weapon out of his paw, delivers a fierce punch into his gut and then tilts her head back, only to let it fly forward in a devastating headbutt that knocks him out cold.

At the same time, one of Lartus’ advisors starts to look somewhat nervous, as if he knows that something is going to happen. Without warning anyone, he stands up and surprisingly, dark magic appears in his hands.  
Focusing on the guards around the box with the Claw of the Khan-Ur, he sends necromantic energy towards one of them, killing this soldier rather quickly. Before the second one can defend herself, two other humans push themselves through the crowd, with weapons in their hands and stabs her in the back.

Sov gets up from the ground, as she was just checking the Baron, but is not in time to attempt an attack of her own against these traitors. Before she manages anything, the necromancer creates a shroud in the air, a fierce unnatural fog that blocks the vision all around them.  
Sov isn’t about to let this continue, of course, and while she frowns, she stomps the ground, making the earth shake beneath her. The magical vibrations from the soil reveal the location of her opponent when her eyes can’t see, and she calls for its aid, in order to send him flying. As he drops unconsciously to the floor, the fog disperses.

Unfortunately, as her sight returns, the last thing Sov feels is another kind of magic in the air – a mesmer. When she turns around, the box and the Claw has already been teleported outside of the tent.  
During this process, Dae hurries to make sure that her girlfriend is alright, before kneeling down to the motionless Baron on the ground and the Captain sitting next to him. A healer has joined him as well.

“How is he doing?”, she asks.

The Captain is distraught, his hands shaking slightly.  
“I’m sorry, there’s…nothing we can do. Baron Lartus is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _See, this is why I had to go with unknown archive warnings. Didn't wanna reveal someone was going to die._   
>  _And yes, this was both charr renegades and human separatists, but they didn't work together. They just happened to want to cause some chaos at the same time. We'll get more into the details next week._


	11. Effects of first blood

Chaos and confusion. The tension in the region known as Warrior’s Crown is on a higher level than any prior day, to the extent that it almost seems to strain the minds of every member of the camp. Previously, there had been a very clear sensation of uncertainty permeating the area, as that could not be denied in this type of situation, but it was still hopeful. All that has now been shattered by a brief and shocking event, one that should have been foreseen.

The two sides had to almost immediately split off after the event and the Vigil quickly jumped in to position themselves in the middle, acting as guards at the border. They hoped this choice would prevent any further violence from either party.  
For the Blood Bond guild, there wasn’t much else to do than try everything they can to keep the idea of peace going and this forced them to once more divide themselves into the two trios they had created earlier.

In the human camp, within the command tent, the Vanguard Captain that they encountered earlier – known as Careth - along with a Seraph Lieutenant by the name of Amera who acted as the leader of Baron Lartus’ personal guard, are both stuck in a state of shock, but with separate reactions. They never expected such treachery.  
“I…still can’t believe he’s gone”, says Amera, with sorrow in her voice. It’s been almost a day now, but she still wears her armor, albeit without the helmet. “It all went so fast…”

While she is distraught, the Captain looks far more distracted by anger.  
“The charr were behind this”, he says, a sharp frown on his face. “I know it. They must have planned the entire event from the beginning.”

Sovica sighs and folds her arms. It’s not the first time that someone has accused the charr since the attack, despite the circumstances.  
“We don’t know that, Captain.”

“What other explanation can there be? They were the ones who attacked out of the blue.”

Amera opens her mouth and raises her hand as if to protest, but hesitates and shakes her head instead.  
“I don’t know what to say, nor what to believe. What will the Queen think of me now? I failed my mission, lost two of our brave soldiers to traitors and the Claw.”  
Shuts her eyes and rubs a hand over them.  
“I…have to prepare letters to their families.”

This isn’t just difficult for them, but a rather tense scenario for the Blood Bond trio too. It can’t be seen on Katla’s stoic face very much, except for a small frown, but at least Daeynwe keeps pacing back and forth. It seems Sov has to be the voice of reason here.  
“Calm down, both of you”, she tells the officers. “I realize how dire this situation is, but there’s no point in wildly throwing around blame nor completely losing hope.”

Careth turns to look at her, on the verge of glaring, his hands clenched.  
“Did you not see what happened out there? Did you miss the death of the Baron, the attack by the charr? They shot the man who wanted to bring them peace!”

Sov faces his expression and his words with equal strength, refusing to give in.  
“No, I could see it just fine, Captain, but perhaps you were so completely blinded by your hatred that you missed how the charr reacted with utter shock as well? Did you not witness how they attempted to stop the attack?”

“That’s not-“

She interrupts him and raises her voice.  
“And did you also miss the attempt on Tribune Brimstone’s life and the fact that it was _humans_ who acted in order to steal the artifact which the Baron had aimed to offer as a gift to the charr? Because I had a perfect view of the entire event.”

Careth’s glare continues, but he has no adequate retort. Instead, he leaves that to Amera, who nods at Sov.  
“You…you are right, lady Vlasic. It stands clear that the charr are not the only ones at fault here and they could not have instigated it.  
However, I…I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now. The charr are likely just as agitated and the Claw is gone, taken in front of their eyes.”

Sov calms down somewhat and raises a hand to her chin, stroking it in thought. She then turns to look at Katla.  
“Have you had the chance to speak with the necromancer yet?”

Katla shakes her head.  
“No, he hasn’t woken up. You must have hit him pretty hard.”

“We also don’t know who any of the ones that escaped were”, Dae points out. “I tried to run after them, but they’re slippery bastards.”

“Well, yes. They had a mesmer, Dae, so they were likely far outside of our reach before you even exited the tent”, Sov adds.

After he composes himself, Careth crosses his arms and reenters the conversation.  
“I can’t speak for the rest, but I know who the necromancer is. He’s another one of those that the Baron brought from Ebonhawke. His name is Relaph Adorellon, a business owner and one of Commander Samuelsson’s advisors. I’m acquainted with him, but not very well.”

Sov watches him with interest, thinking that she probably should’ve investigated all of the others at the main table before she went inside. She was likely too distracted by excitement.  
“Did you talk to him beforehand?”

“Just a little. He was never overly positive to these negotiations, but his opinion on them were not hostile either. He was mostly worried for his business, as I recall.”

“Why was he involved in this matter at all?”

“I’m…not sure. He’s one of those with the foremost mind for economics in the stronghold, but that’s it. I think he might have convinced the Baron that he was the right choice somehow.”

The cloth-covered opening to the tent suddenly parts and another person walks inside – Veilidh. The expression on her face is quite serious.  
“Then I believe that our investigation should start with interrogating him, see what he knows. This might lead us onto a trail of where to find the thieves.”

They all look mildly surprised by the sylvari’s entrance and they wonder how long she has been standing there.  
“You sure you wanna get involved, Veil?”, asks Dae.

“Of course I do. This situation causes more chaos for a lot of people, ones that include members from my organization. The Priory wants order and stability, just like the Vigil, so that we can work towards one unified goal. If either of you need help, Sieran and I are available.”

After taking a deep breath, Sov slowly exhales, trying to control her thoughts.  
“Alright then, I guess it’s time we get to work. The peace negotiations have not completely fallen apart, and we must do everything we can to save them. The Claw of the Khan-Ur must be returned.”  


* * *

  
The sensations on the other side of the camp are not all too different from the humans, but perhaps somewhat angrier and louder. A lot of soldiers are speaking all over, making noise, trying to understand what’s going on and what they should do. There are some obvious questions involved in this matter, especially more so when they ponder what their own people’s involvement will mean for the future.

Among the hut with the leaders, Rytlock is joined by the Blood Bond trio, but also Cragthea, two more Centurions and two Legionnaires. The latter four especially combine their complaints with the occasional growl.  
“This is absurd!”, says one of them. “We have to do something.”

“Sure, but what? We don’t know what’s going on”, says another.

“We know enough! Didn’t you see what happened back there? We should stop this nonsense, head over to the human camp and destroy them where they stand! We have to show them that we don’t tolerate this type of behavior on Legion soil and that they can’t just steal from us like this.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you’re right”, a third agrees.

As this is both annoying and distracting, Crag – as the biggest charr in the room – turns towards them and roar menacingly, startling everyone except Rytlock.  
“ _Shut up, you idiots!_ Didn’t any of you fools see who started the chaos? It was charr, our very own, who attacked first! The High Legions are responsible for killing the human delegate and now peace is falling apart because of this mistake. Your nonsensical behavior isn’t helping!”

Most of the others hesitate, except for one Centurion, who does his best to remain firm.  
“It…was still the humans who went inside to steal the Claw! They told us that we would get it back.”

“Yes, I saw that as well, but do you honestly believe that the ones on the other side of this camp were behind it? They were equally upset by what happened.  
Do any of you really want to make this situation even worse? Have we not had enough death right now? The very purpose for this meeting was to find a new potential ally. If all of you are too stupid to get that, then I suggest you get the hell out of here.”

Her words silence everyone in the tent now. None of them wishes to oppose Crag’s opinion, as it is pretty reasonable, nor do they want to suffer her wrath.  
The only one who interjects is Rytlock.  
“I agree”, he says. “The humans can be some real flaming cowardly mice at times, but today wasn’t one of ‘em.”  
He turns to look at Crag.  
“Did you get to interrogate the surviving assassin yet?”

She inclines her head in return.  
“Yes, Tribune, but only briefly. He’s still too injured to get much out of.  
He made it pretty clear to me that he and his allies were not working with any humans, though. He seemed disgusted by them overall, so I doubt he was lying. Unfortunately, he was unwilling to say anything else.”

“Hmm. Guess we couldn’t have expected much. I doubt he knows enough, though. Probably just frontline fodder, here as a distraction.”

“We’ve kept him alive for now, but I wouldn’t mind executing him later. Not just for treason, but because he sounds like a real moron.”

Razok, Rea and Ovillus are nearby, although they stand a bit in the background. It is the engineer who decides to take a step forward and clear his throat, drawing the attention of all the higher-ups.  
“Uh, we’ve been suspecting that both the Legions and the humans have their separate members who don’t wish to see these peace talks work out well. In fact, that’s the very reason why our guild came here at all. The only problem was that we hadn’t expected how well-prepared the collaborators would be.”

Rytlock turns to view all three, running the claws on one paw around his mouth.  
“Do any of you have definitive news on who they might be working for or where they came from?”

He receives a sigh in return from Rea, who shrugs.  
“Sadly, we don’t. We had hoped to find more, but our investigations didn’t show much.  
We searched through both Deathblade’s Watch and Ebonhawke for a few days, but neither of them led to any safe conclusions. All we knew was that an attack was being planned, but we expected it might take a few days to truly begin."

“Well, perhaps I can offer a hand in solving the mystery”, says another voice, coming from the door.

Some of the officers put hands on their weapons, even Crag, as they turn to view what kind outsider is trying to butt in, and it shows to be another charr, in dark leather gear. He has brown and white-striped fur, with a patch over his right eye.  
Rytlock pushes a Legionnaire aside and takes a frontal position.  
“And who the hell are you?”

The Blood Bond trio actually looks at him with recognition.  
“Oh, uh, I know him, sir”, says Raz. “It’s my superior from the Ash Legion, Centurion Viturg Flawepaw.”

Viturg briefly salutes Rytlock.  
“It’s an honor, Tribune.”

Rytlock and Crag both turn simultaneously to look at each other for a moment, before the Tribune faces Viturg.  
“Why are you here, Centurion?”

Viturg is a little bit shorter than Rytlock and definitely not as big, but it’s pretty clear that he’s deadly too, with the blades and guns attached to his gear.  
“I arrived just a few hours ago, after having received new information from my agents, which I had to investigate.  
The Flame Legion is on its way.”

Not the kind of news anyone had expected, based on the array of shocked expression.  
“What? Where? How?”

“They’ve brought several squads from the north and travelled in utmost secrecy, hoping to avoid detection. They’re getting prepared to attack this camp and soon. My agents believe that they were ones behind the assassination attempt, at least for our side.”

They all hear a growl from Crag and she clenches her paws.  
"Those cowardly kindling! When I get my claws on them…”

Rytlock frowns as well, but remains at least slightly calmer.  
“Any idea what they want?”

Viturg shrugs.  
“Chaos, I expect, but I can’t say for sure. They probably hoped that either you, the Baron or both would perish in the assault, before they arrived, so that they could easily destroy what’s left.  
Makes sense too. Not only would they prevent the other Legions from gaining a new ally, but it would mean we’d be further weakened by a critical blow with losses of important officers.”

With a heavy sigh, Rytlock folds his arms and takes a step back.  
“Well, shit. Guess this situation is more screwed up than I thought.”

“It’s not all bad news, though, Tribune – we are almost completely certain that the Flame squads haven’t become aware that my agents located them. We could prepare a defense before they get here. They’ll probably be shocked, as they will not have expected a reinforced barricade.”

Rytlock momentarily considers the notion before he responds.  
“We could do that, yeah. With Crag and my troops, we’ll have a lot of capable fighters.”  
He glances at Raz.  
“Is Blood Bond ready to stand with the High Legion and destroy these lousy Flame lowlifes?”

Rea is the one who offers a smile and a sharp nod.  
“Count on it, Tribune.”

“Our trio certainly is”, says Raz. “The rest will be trying to get the Claw of the Khan-Ur back, I suspect.”

“Alright, sounds good”, Rytlock comments. “Then let’s do this.”

Crag grins and chuckles in excitement.  
“Oh, this is gonna be good. It’s been a while since I had to crush some of their soldiers and I’m very much looking forward to some payback.”


	12. Truth's judgment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sovica and Veilidh act a little bit different than in some of the other chapters here. This is intentional._

One of the conclusions that Relaph Adorellon actually doubted the potential of, was that he would awaken in a living state after what he did. It somehow seemed inevitable that death would arrive, either from the defenders or from his ‘allies’, to keep his mouth shut. He would not have enjoyed it, but that’s the type of mindset those people likely employ and the methods they are willing to utilize.

Whether by luck or curse, he does actually remain alive, though, currently tied with rope to a wooden chair, in a fairly dark tent. His head hurts, obviously, and his throat is quite dry, but that he gets to breathe at all is a liberating sensation.  
Once his mind becomes less clouded, he immediately tries to provide a bit of resistance for his bindings, but it’s futile; they are far too sturdy for him to break.

When he turns his eyes to glance around the vicinity, he spots an armed woman standing nearby. He recognizes the armor of the Seraph, likely one of Baron Lartus’ guards.  
“You, soldier! Untie me this instant!”

The Seraph reacts to his voice and regards him briefly, but does not help. Instead, she leaves the tent. Relaph can only assume that she is going to get someone else.  
His guess is correct. About a minute later, she is replaced by three other women – lady Sovica Vlasic, Magister Veilidh and Katla Svalen. All of them are standing in the same gear they were using during the peace negotiations, but none of them are wielding any weapons.

Compared to the other human, Relaph is not only older, with balding grey-black hair, but also has fair skin instead. His cheeks are usually clean-shaven, but there’s a bit of a shadow on them at this time.  
The emotions provided by this trio varies – Sov looks neutral and unfazed, Veil is frowning, while Katla appears fairly skeptical.  
“Mister Adorellon”, says the first of the three, “I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.”

Relaph gives her a frown in return.  
“Lady Sovica. Your skill with magic is…impressive”, he tells her reluctantly.

“I would thank you, if I wasn’t already so disappointed that you are sitting here in the first place.”

“What do you want? An explanation? You can forget it. I won’t-“

He stops when Sov raises her hand and he somehow expects her to strike him, or something similar. Instead, she draws a magical rune in the air with light erupting from her fingers, and the earth moves to answer her call. The ground beneath them starts to shake, and sections of it rises, changing shape and creating a dome around them. Soon enough, they are completely encapsulated. Relaph looks surprised as it occurs, but the other two women merely stand there watching their companion.  
A table was included in the area that she has encased and Sov uses another minor spell to light the candle that rests on top.

“There we go”, she states calmly. “I believe we should get some privacy now.”  
She moves a hand down to her belt and lifts up a bottle that hangs from it, offering it to him.  
“Water? You may need it.”

He hesitates somewhat, which makes Veil frown.  
“Or you could just pour it down his throat until he chokes on it. I believe that’s a worthy punishment for a murderer.”

Having a small sip of it – with Sov’s help - lets him regain some of his vigor and he glares back at the sylvari.  
“I have not murdered anyone, Magister.”

“Oh, so what you did out there to one of the Seraph guards wouldn’t be classified as killing? Maybe you and I have a different definition of that word, Relaph.”

Well, that is certainly a good point and he doesn’t look quite as sure of himself a second later.  
“It…was a justified action, to protect Ebonhawke.”

“It’s still murder, you idiot.”

While Veil obviously sounds agitated, Sov tries to proceed with a calmer and gentler tone.  
“Please, mister Adorellon, we only wish to talk. I think you know what it is we’re interested in.”

Relaph turns his face away, refusing to view them.  
“I have nothing to say to any of you.”

Showing the same determination not to be ignored, Veil closes in on him and grips one of his arms.  
“You better talk, and you better do it soon, if you hope to get out of here, you miserable pile of flesh.”

She utilizes a fairly threatening tone, but he tries to remain firm.  
“I am not afraid of you, or anyone. A little girl, a dumb brute and a plant doesn’t scare me in the slightest.”

This is probably not entirely accurate, but at least he tries to struggle. It seems to anger Veil even further and she puts her gauntleted hand on his cheek, digging the pointed fingertips into his skin, but not fiercely enough to pierce it.  
“You should be, if you know what’s good for you.”

Sov sighs and shakes her head.  
“We do not wish to harm you, mister Adorellon. You only have to cooperate, and everything will be better. Tell us who you work for, where the Claw is, and we will let you go. It’s that simple.”

“If you don’t, we can certainly make your entire stay here a whole lot worse”, the sylvari insists.

When Veil tears her hand away, Relaph has to grit his teeth and correct his position, but the scowl remains.  
“My stance hasn’t changed. I have nothing to say. If you want to hurt me, go ahead.”

Sov puts down the bottle on the table, not too far from him, and then folds her arms.  
“I don’t understand why someone like you would do this. You’re a businessman, a successful one, and a proud Ebonhawke citizen. Why would you betray your home?”

“Me? You are calling _me_ a traitor? I am not the one who’s selling out Ascalon to the charr or betraying my heritage in order to surrender!”

“Not even for peace? With a treaty like this, we can live with the charr in harmony, without ever having to lose people again.”

He grimaces in doubt and a bit of disgust.  
“You aren’t honestly stupid enough to believe that, are you? The charr want everything! They won’t be satisfied with peace, not until we leave everything to them. We will lose the very thought of Ascalon by giving up.”

Veil shuts her eyes and plants a hand on her forehead.  
“Zealous patriotic morons like you are what causes this conflict to begin with! You don’t even care that you’re killing your own people.”

“If they work with the charr, they are _not_ my people.”

In reaction to this statement, Sov looks somewhat saddened, putting a hand to her chest.  
“Are you saying that I am the traitor, mister Adorellon? My family fought for Ascalon for ages, before they moved to protect its people elsewhere and liberated Kryta.”

“Yes and look where you are now! Would your ancestors really be satisfied that you’re licking the paws of these beasts?!”

Veil snorts derisively.  
“He’s a fool, Sovica, a blind idiot. All he understands is violence. We should beat the truth out of him.”

Relaph looks at her with quite a bit of ferocity.  
“Just try it, you walking salad! I’m not afraid! The warmth of Ascalon will sustain me against anything.”

Sovica slowly shakes her head.  
“Do you honestly believe that my ancestors would be fine with this type of destruction? That they would accept the death of our own people and further devastation of Ascalon? They saw it burn once, and they would not wish to experience that again.”

“Then release me and together we can stop the charr, once and for all!”

“That is not true, and you know it. Your actions will only bring more war to these lands and I can’t allow that.”

Veil suddenly closes the distance between Relaph and herself again. She pushes her hand into her coat and produces some kind of short weapon, a metallic stick. She pushes a button on it and sparks of electricity are emitted from the top.  
“Do you know what this is, human? It’s a device imbued with enough electric charges to fry you from the inside out in a matter of seconds. You will experience pain on a level you’ve never even imagined. It’s only a prototype, but I believe my measurements are correct. Tell us what we want to know, or I’ll have to test the specifics on you.”

The sight of this tool does discourage him somewhat and fear appears to shimmer through his eyes. He swallows and tries to keep himself steady, but it’s not easy. Obviously, he can’t know how much of what she says is truth.  
“I…I’m not swayed by pain, Magister. My love for Ascalon is stronger than anything you can provide.”

Veil tries to remain firm, but a bit of disappointment appears in her eyes. She starts to circle him, to hide it, but she may have been too late.  
“Are you sure? You will regret it.”

Sov and Katla waits as well, but some hope returns to Relaph’s eyes.  
“You can’t do it, can you? Neither of you are capable of committing torture; I can see the hesitation all over your faces. You are the type of people who believe in justice and compassion. The only justice in our scenario, is to fight the charr.”

He’s right about the torture, of course, and they both know it. Even if Veil is trying to play fierce, she would never dare to actually perform it. She doesn’t have such callousness in her.  
While they contemplate how to proceed, however, Katla suddenly butts in.  
“I’ll do it.”

Sov blinks and faces the norn.  
“What?”

“Let my magic take care of him. I can open up his thoughts.”

Katla doesn’t wait for permission and the other duo doesn’t even know what to respond with anyhow.  
As she stops right in front of him, she is a rather massive sight. Even if he were standing up, his height would be no match for hers, but by sitting down, it feels like he’s nothing more than a bug that can very well end up beneath her feet.

“You…you think a norn will make any difference? None of you can succeed here.” He tries to sound brave, but the fear is much more audible this time.  
She raises her right hand and uses the left one to activate some kind of magic on it. Soon after, they can all see how a white and blue aura appears around the hand, making the very air vibrate with energy. Relaph swallows.  
“Y-you…think I’m scared of you, just because you’re big? I won’t talk to you anymore than the other two.”

Katla shrugs nonchalantly.  
“You won’t have to.”

She places her hand on his face, but her fingers are so long that it’s almost enough to cover his whole head, though not quite.  
“W-what are you doing?”

The tone she uses is flat, though could be interpreted as cold.  
“The magic of a Guardian can be utilized for protection and destruction, but also to penetrate spirits from both living and dead creatures.”  
Small blue flames appear over each of her fingers.  
“It’s going to tear into your soul and purge any lies. It will hurt.” She glances at the other two, who also seem somewhat doubtful. “Hope you don’t mind screams.”

“Erm…”, says Sov, but hesitates. If this is Katla’s plan, she doesn’t wish to ruin it.

The norn shut her eyes and tries to focus. The flames react to the strength she pours into them and increase their intensity. They grow larger and fiercer, even if no heat joins them. They appear more like ghostly depictions of fire.  
As they drift closer to Relaph’s head, he begins to breathe heavier and shake with fear. He tries to resist this method, but unlike with the other two, he actually believes that this one would deliver.

Eventually, he starts to squirm and break, before the process has even begun.  
“No, please! Don’t let her do it! I…I will tell you everything, I swear!”

Katla takes a step back and removes her hand, but the magic remains, so that he won’t forget what he will endure if he doesn’t do what he promises.  
Relaph is panting, with his gaze lowered to the ground, when the other two women take prominent positions again.  
“Go on, mister Adorellon”, says Sov.

“I…I’m working with a group, but I don’t know much about them. I don’t know how they’re organized nor their faction’s name, but weeks ago, I was approached by a few people who told me that they ‘fight for Ascalon’s liberation’.  
I met with one of their leaders, a woman called Trillia. She was the mesmer you might have noticed at the tent.”  
He takes another deep breath, trying to control himself somewhat, but doesn’t stop talking afterwards.  
“She…mentioned that I would become a vital part of their movement and be given an important position in the renewed kingdom.”

Veil has put away the tool she was trying to use earlier and now looks at him with a calmer demeanor.  
“What are they trying to achieve by attacking this place?”

“Part of the goal was actually to kill the Baron on their own and steal the Claw, but these charr – whoever they were – apparently had the same target in mind. The group I’m with does not work with any charr, though. They aren’t fools.”

Sov runs a hand up to her chin, stroking it thoughtfully.  
“Hmm. Do you know where they are right now?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I do know they have an outpost a few miles to the southwest that they were going to utilize for this mission. It’s hiding between the Brand and Ebonhawke lands and they call it Camp Miljana. It’s protected by mesmer spells, but I have a small orb in my bag that will help you detect it.”

This wasn’t what any of them had expected to hear and Sov furrows her brow.  
“…excuse me? Why would they use that name?”

“I…have heard them speaking of some other camps too and all of them are named after human heroes.”

“…you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Veil puts a hand on Sov’s shoulder.  
“Well, at least we have the information we need. We should tell the others.”  
She glances at the man in the chair.  
“But don’t think mercy will come for you, Relaph. Treason isn’t punished lightly.”

He does not have a response for any of them, and they can depart without further delay.  
With another quick spell, Sovica removes the earth dome, returning the soil to its proper place. Once the trio has left the tent, they approach Daeynwe and Sieran, who wait not too far outside.  
“How’d it go?”, the younger of the two asks.

“We have a location and a name”, Sov confirms. “It’s a few miles away and we should probably try to move as soon as possible, before the Claw is transported elsewhere.”

Now that they’re outside of the tent, with Relaph not in earshot, Veil directs her attention to Katla.  
“Would your spell actually have purged his lies, Katla?”

The norn looks down at the sylvari, but her eyes are difficult to read. All she does is shrug casually in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Katla can be kinda scary._   
>  _And yeah, they played a case of "good cop/bad cop" on him. Or "good cop, bad cop, worse cop", I guess._   
>  _The Trillia mentioned is[Trillia Midwell](https://wiki.guildwars2.com/wiki/Trillia_Midwell), who isn't really, you know, anyone important in-game, but I figured I'd give her a small role here. The inner workings of the Separatists are pretty unknown anyway._   
>  _And yes, she's a mesmer in this story, not an elementalist._


	13. At fire's gates

The situation within the joint charr and human camp is, at this time, pretty erratic. People are discussing what to do and how to deal with the surrounding dilemmas, not just regarding the negotiations, but also other threats that lurk in the distance. It has grown so tense among the gathered people, that one might start to suspect it is the reality of the entire world, that it is not just locked in one location, but infecting the rest of Tyria too. Obviously, this is a false assumption.

As Rea wanders in the outskirts of area, she can truly experience the contrast, how different it is if one simply takes a few steps outside and clears one’s mind. If she ignores the sound of people within the camp, it is almost peaceful, as if the world itself slumbers. Conflict seems so far away.  
Her little journey is not made alone, as she has Grawdr by her side. They’ve been investigating the vicinity, scouting for potential threats. They look for footsteps in the snow or other sentient interference. So far, they’ve found nothing. Wherever the Flame Legion is, its troops haven’t gotten close enough just yet.

While Rea seizes a moment to calm down, placing her hands at her hips and taking a deep breath, she manages to pick up the scents of the camp all the way from here – the smoke from the fires, the food being prepared, the stenches of sweat and wet fur. Due to the lack of blooming flowers, trees and other vegetation in this wintery landscape, other aspects become much more noticeable.  
Her reverie is interrupted by the familiar sound of Grawdr eagerly sniffing an object on the ground and she turns to look down.  
“What is it, boy? Found something?”

He doesn’t really move much when she asks, but instead keeps his snout aimed at whatever it is he has located. Rea follows this gesture and kneels down on the ground. What she sees is unfortunately not a new clue, but merely the droppings of some creature, likely a deer or the equivalent in this region. Rea smiles, shakes her head and runs a hand through his fur.  
“We’re not going on a hunt right now, big guy. Maybe we can consider it after we’ve dealt with these Flamey bastards."

Grawdr grunts, seemingly in disappointment, but he doesn’t do much to protest or oppose her wishes.  
Rea knows that her dear polar bear companion is more accustomed to cold weather, but much like her, he seems to have at least somewhat acclimatized to their current environment. It was difficult before, during the warmer seasons, but now that it’s winter here too, they both feel a bit better.

After a few more minutes of walking around, they head back towards the charr section of the camp, to see what’s going on and to give her report regarding their findings, or lack thereof. Before they’ve even arrived, she can hear that not everything is fine and relaxed among her companions.  
It seems like Ovillus and Razok are arguing about something again, though it’s hard to tell what exactly it could be. If she were to guess, it probably has something to do with the gear they’re going to use.  
Rea doesn’t really understand much of all this tech stuff, nor the constant rivalry involved, but she would’ve figured that the two foremost people in their group with minds for this sort of thing, would try to work together. That is rarely the case, however.

“Listen to me”, says Ovillus. “I have conducted some new calibrations of my analysis, which clearly points towards a potential increase in efficiency, if you choose to utilize my methods. They are indisputable.”

Raz exhales through his nose and rolls his eyes.  
“You seriously expect me to just remove the targeting matrix and let you mess around with it?”

The blunt presumption makes Ovillus wince and he views the charr skeptically.  
“Excuse me? ‘Mess around’? That is the most preposterous description of my procedures I’ve ever heard! I will do no such thing, you invertebrate! I have studied the configurations of arcane devices for the majority of my adult life and I have tools which can alter the output of the essence within your weapon at the molecular level.”

“You’re talking about some of your asura crap. This isn’t one of your experiments, you know. You wouldn’t get what you’re doing.”

“Pardon?! I was tutored by some of the finest and most intellectual minds of the College of Synergetics! Your people’s technology, especially your targeting devices, is nothing more than a paltry imitation of asuran design! It is the type of system that I already operated upon and modified in my adolescent years!”

“It’s not an imitation, it's an improvement, idiot. We use different techniques, which you’ve got no idea how to handle.”

Ovillus sighs, his ears shivering slightly in contained anger, as he runs a hand over his eyes. He feels a headache coming.  
“This is absurd! Have I not proved my capabilities during our months together?”

At the same time, Raz is sitting with a few of his tools in his paws, working on some type of box that he has opened up.  
“Yeah, but my turret’s firing mechanisms are tuned specifically to my design. If you stick your wormy lil’ fingers in it, you’ll mess it up.”

“Incorrect! My calculations would simply improve it!  
…and my fingers aren’t wormy!”

Raz glances at him.  
“You’re right, they’re more like grubs. They’re smaller than my toes.”

Their bickering is soon interrupted by a chuckle and they see how Rea walks towards them, with Grawdr at her side. She stops not too far away and puts a hand on her hip with a smile.  
“I see that the two of you are getting along as usual, huh?”

The charr snorts and his ears twitches with annoyance.  
“He wants to mess around with my turrets.”

Ovillus angrily crosses his arms.  
“An untrue statement. I want to _enhance_ their potential, you ignoramus!”

Rea tilts her head back somewhat and laughs again.  
“And insulting each other like this back and forth is helping?”

“Look, I’d let him poke around, if he didn’t assume that all he does is better than my stuff!”, Raz tells her. “Why do you think I’m the engineer here? Because technology is about more than magic.”

Ovillus pinches one of his own ears, another sign of irritation or anger, most likely.  
“Yes, but your devices are rendered nonfunctional if they do not employ the appropriate energy sources. During my many years in the College, I studied and developed techniques which can manipulate or increase the efficiency of such contraptions, which is why you require my expertise.”

“I don’t ‘require’ anything, you little rat!”

“What did you call me?!”

“Hey!”, Rea yells and then claps her hands hard, in order to get their attention.  
“Stop this fighting, right now! This is getting you nowhere. Don’t you see how stupid you are when you go about one-upping each other all the time?  
Ovillus, it would probably be much easier to approach Razok about your ideas if you try to be kinder and more complimentary of his skills, to show that you respect him.”

Ovillus furrows his brow and looks disappointedly to the ground. Raz turns to glare at the asura.  
“Don’t think that guy even knows how to praise someone else.”

Before he can get all too smug, Rea turns her eyes to him.  
“And this includes you, Raz. After all, hasn’t Ovillus been pretty insightful? You should give his suggestion a chance.”  
She stands up straighter again and folds her arms.  
“We’ve worked together for months now. I know you two have your differences, but I’ve seen firsthand what you’re capable of when you cooperate. Remember Folly’s Breach? Or the attack on the Inquest? You were unstoppable.”

It’s obviously difficult to simply let go of rivalry, to forget the inherent skepticism in their relationship, but they also don’t want to look like fools. They turn to gaze at each other.  
“I…did not mean to insult your design, Razok”, says Ovillus. “It is competently crafted. You and your people often make weapons with far more destructive yield than asura can attain.”

Due to the cordial approach he gets, Raz doesn’t want to be worse, which is why he opens up as well. He does have to scratch the back of his head a bit awkwardly first, though.  
“…thanks. I guess that wasn’t entirely fair on you. You’ve always been pretty smart and analytical. That’s why you’re the Professor, after all.  
Can I take a look at those calibrations again?”

Rea seems satisfied with the renewed attempt at a mutual effort. Before she lets them continue, she pats Raz’s shoulder and gently strokes the top of Ovillus’ head. Her own insight into this kind of stuff is lacking, but she does enjoy being able to help two of their three intellectuals realize that teamwork is more beneficial than fighting. At least she knows how to be diplomatic, though some might say that Sovica is still better.

While these two get busy, Rea gets distracted by some shouting in the distance. She stands up and follows the sound of it, until she reaches the main sections of the charr camp. In here, she spots all sorts of movement and chaos, as the troops and workers run around endlessly. In the middle stands Cragthea, giving them all very vehement orders.  
“Sarul, stand straighter with that shield! You want the next sword coming at ya to cut off your horns?  
Albatia, I wanna see quicker and heavier thrusts with that hammer! You gotta really lay it into your foe, or it won’t do much at all.  
Ralleg, that better not be you slacking in the corner again! Get up, you lazy dolyak-herder!  
Waoilus, where’s that report I asked for? It’s been an hour now!  
Aldern, get some of those scouts out on patrol, dammit. They’re useless here!  
Golonia, where’s the flaming mines I told you to plant?! They’re not gonna do much in your bags, now are they?  
C’mon, people, get to it!”

As Rea comes closer, she can see that the Centurion isn’t just yelling at soldiers to do their jobs, but she also occasionally bumps into them, tries out their defenses, corrects their armors or pushes them to keep working. Everyone seems eager to follow her orders, or at least not directly question her authority. She knows what she’s doing, and she demands to be taken seriously. With her demeanor and size, that’s not difficult to achieve.

“Centurion! Looks like things are pretty hectic here”, says Rea. “How’s it going?”

Crag blinks confusedly and turns around, but when she notices that it’s not one of her own, she calms down somewhat.  
“Oh, Svalen. Didn’t see ya over there.”  
She nods confidently.  
“We’re doing fine, so far.”

Rea arches her brow skeptically.  
“…you sure? You seem to be yelling a lot for ‘fine’.”

The big charr chuckles and waves her paw dismissively.  
“Ah, that’s nothin’. It’s just typical Legion drilling, really. Gotta make sure they all stay sharp and perform their duties correctly. That’s how it works in Blood.”

“Heh, if you say so.  
How are you feeling about what we’re facing? I remember some of the stories you told us back in the Watch. It really sounded like you enjoy punching those people.”

Crag focuses her light grey eyes straight into Rea’s blue ones and grins.  
“Oh yes, I definitely do. Personally, I think Flame is a disgrace to the High Legions, worse than any other part of us.  
The Legions all have different philosophies, methods and ideals, but Flame is by far the most despicable.”

“How so?”

“Well, not only do they want to rule the rest of us, especially by using magic, but they don’t see the use in females. They think we’re all worthless, meant for cooking and cleaning, far away from the battlefield.”  
She releases a small growl.  
“They’re vile.”

Rea looks a bit confused, not quite understanding the angle.  
“Really? That sounds strange. I’ve only fought against these people once before, so I didn’t know that. Is that what they’ve always been like?”

Crag nods, furrows her brow and then gazes out over the training field.  
“A couple of centuries ago, female charr were not allowed to serve in the armies. We were forced into menial and demeaning tasks, as nothing more than servants. Some females had rebelled against Flame’s worship of their gods and they then took it out on all of us collectively.  
It wasn’t until 200 years ago that it changed, when Kalla Scorchrazor fulfilled the rebellion against the Flame Shamans. Her actions helped bring true freedom, not just for females, but the other Legions in general. Since then, none of us mind showing what we think of their ideas.”

Rea starts to smile, liking the purpose of the story.  
“You know, that’s not all too far from our history with the Sons of Svanir. They also dislike women because of the actions of one person. Think I kinda like this Kalla.”

She receives a chuckle from Crag.  
“Then you know a little of what it’s like.”

“I assume you believe we can defeat Flame’s assault then?”

“Oh, we definitely can. I’ve killed a lot of Flame goons in my time and I’ll gladly do it again and again, until they realize that they’ve got no place among the High Legions.”

Before they can continue this discussion, another charr pushes himself past some of the soldiers who train in the area. It is Centurion Viturg and he’s heading straight for them.  
“Centurion”, he says to Crag and inclines his head in greeting. “Flame has been spotted just a few miles to the northwest. They’ll probably be upon us soon and they’ve brought a lot of troops.”

Compared to the expected reaction of others, Crag excitedly slams her closed paws together and her tail whips back and forth.  
“Well, our defenses are soon finished, so we’re more than ready.” She looks at Rea. “What about Blood Bond?”

“A few more ‘calibrations’ from our boys, and I think we’re good to go”, the norn informs her.

“Then let’s make this happen. Blood and fire will rain across the fields tonight.”


	14. Heart of Ascalon

In the areas between Ebonhawke and the sections of the Fields of Ruin that have been corrupted by Kralkatorrik, lies a few forested regions and some rocky hills. For the most part, they are rarely of any interest to the majority of the locals. Charr and humans do occasionally go there for hunts or to chop wood, but due to the potential of running into each other or wandering Brand patrols, they mostly stay away.  
This is exactly why it’s an ideal location for a hideout, even more so when such an outpost is magically protected.

A few specific individuals are en route to this section, wearing cloaks that conceal their appearances in the fog and snow, while avoiding any of the major roads. If anyone were to observe them, it would seem like they are simply walking aimlessly, as there isn’t really anything of note in the vicinity. That is, until they suddenly disappear, when they pass through a particular hill.

In reality, the trio enters a mesmer-crafted illusion, a large barrier that makes it seem as if there isn’t a moderately sized camp in the area. Inside of it, the trio finds tents, tables, a few campfires and several members of a separatist faction, one that has stepped away from Ebonhawke in order to go their own path. This trio is part of the same group, and they journeyed here specifically due to a certain deal was struck weeks ago.

The man at the front pulls down his hood and around the same time, a woman walks out from a nearby tent. She has light skin and green eyes, but her hair is obscured by the cowl she wears, while her body is adorned with an assortment of red and black clothes.  
“Miss Trillia Midwell”, he says. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too”, she responds calmly and folds her arms. “You came here early.”

“Indeed. Our…benefactors were very intrigued by the object you’ve acquired. They asked me to come in person, to assess its condition.”

The mesmer snorts and shakes her head.  
“Don’t trust me, huh?”

“Of course they do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been sent to steal the artifact in the first place. However, they must still know what has happened to it.”

She shrugs in slight resignation.  
“Very well, come with me.”

She then gestures for them to follow and takes them towards her tent, but tells them to stop outside. Shortly after, she and another person extract the box where the item is kept, places it on a wooden table and unlocks the container. Within, they see the artifact that was meant to be transferred to the charr.  
The messenger looks very intrigued, as his eyes survey every inch of it.

“Hmm. So, this is the famous Claw of the Khan-Ur.”

Trillia nods, but a frown begins to adorn her brow.  
“It is. I still can’t believe that the mongrels would revere a piece of junk like this.”

“Well, it’s a crude weapon, but one with a lot of history.”

“It’s a piece of crap and if we didn’t need it, I’d bring it in front of our enemies, so that they may watch me break their ‘history’, just like they defiled ours.”

The escorts of the messenger, as well as a few nearby separatists, seem to agree with her, but the messenger himself looks more skeptical.  
“I understand your anger, but we have to stay focused here. With this object, we may be able to negotiate for advantages against the charr. We could acquire land or resources for our future efforts, but our benefactors are hoping to seize another item – Sohothin.”

His suggestion silences the rest of the group, even Trillia. The mesmer considers this aspect for a moment, running a hand over her chin.  
“You think that’s possible?”

“I don’t know, but I believe it’s worth a try. To return the mighty blade into the hands of Ascalonians…well, I’m sure you realize how momentous that would be.”

“I do, but we have to be careful. Charr are treacherous creatures and would be more willing to attempt an ambush, rather than going through with the trade. We saw enough of that in the ‘negotiations’.”

“Indeed”, the messenger says, before he folds his arms. “We received the news already. It’s a shame that the Baron had to die.”

Trillia scowls and closes the box once more, although somewhat harder than she intended.  
“I don’t care about him. In the end, he was a traitor, ready to sell Ascalon’s honor for a meagre price.”  
She turns to stare sternly at the messenger.  
“Don’t ever forget why we do this. Freedom for Ascalon.”

Following this mantra, the messenger and several others repeat it in unison.  
“Freedom for Ascalon!”

Afterwards, he continues his inquiry.  
“Where do you intend to take the artifact now? I assume we can’t transfer it yet?”

“No, that would be too risky. Ebonhawke is bound to send out patrols, so we should wait until they’ve calmed down somewhat.”

“Where, then? Camp Isidro, I guess?”

Trillia shakes her head briefly.  
“I considered that at first, but I had a better idea.  
Everyone will assume we’ll go there, so I think we should take it north instead, to Camp Devona.”

It appears that her suggestion is rather bold or perhaps even risky, as the messenger shows clear signs of hesitation on his face.  
“Is that wise? It’s so close to the Brand.”

“I know, which is why it’s perfect. No one will suspect us to go through all that danger and no patrols from either Ebonhawke or the charr reach that region. I’ve sent two scouts ahead, to make sure that the outpost hasn’t been destroyed. We’ll depart as soon as one of them returns and tells us its clear.”

The messenger nods slowly and is just about to respond, but before he manages to, another voice intervenes.  
“You could do that, or you could just hand it over to its rightful owners. That is, if you had any honor left.”

The whole group, along with several other separatists, display expressions of surprise and immediately turn towards one specific side of their illusion barrier, where movement can be spotted. A team of five people walk through its border – Sovica, Katla, Daeynwe, Veilidh and Sieran all march inside, some of them having hands on their weapons.  
Trillia frowns immediately at the only human among them, while the remaining separatists take positions around the table, to protect their prize.

“Lady Vlasic”, she says, with a bit of disdain in her voice. “Hmph. So, you made it here after all, and faster than I expected. I guess this means that useless merchant betrayed us. I knew we should’ve killed him when we had the chance.”

Sov furrows her own brow and crosses her arms.  
“At least he wasn’t mistaken about your callousness.”

“What do you think you can accomplish here? You are not the ‘rightful owner’ of the Claw either.”

“Nor do I want to be. It should go to the charr, so that we can finally have peace.”

“Peace?!”, Trillia exclaims and begins to pace across the area in front of the table. At the same time, the messenger and his escort are beginning to retreat.  
“Is that all you people want? You’re ready to betray Ascalon simply to get some silence, huh?”

“It’s what everyone should want. This land has seen enough war.”

It’s not like Sov assumed that this woman would agree with her, but due to the increased indignation on her face, this situation may be worse than the elementalist initially anticipated.  
“You think we should just give up on Ascalon, don’t you?”

“I haven’t said that, but regaining this land through violence is not the right path. It will only cause more deaths. This isn’t justice.”

“Isn’t it? And what about the tens of thousands or more that the charr killed with their invasion and the Searing? Was _that_ justice? Should we just forgive and forget it ever happened?”

“That was 250 years ago.”

“Some of us don’t forget atrocities so easily!”

Sov sighs and runs a hand up to her hair, correcting it while she considers her response. It feels like a violent conclusion to this dilemma is inevitable, but she would prefer if it wasn’t. Perhaps she could try to show some sympathy.  
“I admit that I cannot discard such events either, as history means a lot to me. I have not forgiven anyone, nor will I, but peace is still preferable. We can never regain access to Ascalon if we have to fight for it. The past has shown us we can’t win.”

Trillia’s glare intensifies with Sov’s words and she clenches one of her hands.  
“I see now. You’re not a real Ascalonian. You never were.”

It obviously hurts to hear that, but Sov tries not to appear outwardly affected by it.  
“And what makes you say that?”

“I can see it on you, hear it in your voice. You simply wish to surrender and move on. You and your family don’t belong in this nation.”

Okay, now it’s getting to her. Sov takes another step forward, her own frown deepening.  
“Why? Because my clan came from Elona? Because we moved to Kryta in order to survive? That doesn’t mean we care less.”

“You will never understand what it’s like to be without your nation.”

“That is the very heart of my House, you fool! We have lost several homes during our long history. Ascalon was just as treasured by us!”

Trillia lifts her hand and points accusatorily at her.  
“You don’t care for this country. Don’t try to deny it! You don’t matter here anymore, Vlasic.”

“Is that so? It’s interesting then that you choose to name your camp after _my_ ancestor.”

“Miljana was a hero! Compared to the rest of you, at least she didn’t cower.”

Suddenly, Veil takes a step forward and gestures in between them with a sharp cut of her hand.  
“Alright, that’s enough! You and your group will give us the Claw back right now, Trillia, or we will have to take it by force. It’s your choice.”

Trillia merely tilts her head back and laughs.  
“Oh, such hubris. You think I’d ever allow that? We aren’t afraid of foreigners or other races, as that is what we have always fought. For Ascalon!”

She emits a battle cry of sorts, but she obviously doesn’t attack on her own. Instead, a few of the separatist warriors take care of it for her, charging straight into the group.  
Luckily, Sov has help as well, as Katla gets in between them. She kicks one human in the chest, slamming them to the dirt below, and then punches another in the abdomen with such strength and speed that he flies up and crashes into a tent a few meters away.  
“I don’t think so”, she tells them in a calm manner.

Now that chaos has broken loose, the rest of the separatists draw their weapons, both melee and ranged ones. The only people who don’t are the messenger and his escort, who have already fled the scene.  
In response to their hostility, Sieran is the second to act in the team, using her magical powers to raise a wall made of earth to protect the group. Veil pulls out a shotgun from her back, while Dae unsheathes her swords.

“We have to reach that box”, Sov tells the others. “Trillia will try to escape with it and we can’t allow them to get away again.”

Veil takes a position with her back against the left side of the wall and holds her weapon ready, while Dae follows the same action on the other side.  
“Alright, let’s split up”, Veil suggests. “You go after the box, Sovica, while the rest of us handle these bastards.”

Sov surveys her team, her attention being drawn towards Dae the longest.  
“Are you sure you can handle it?”

Shortly after this question is asked, a few more separatists come running, trying to flank the team’s positions, but they step way too close. Dae has gotten down into a kneeling stance and the first human completely ignores her, which gives her a chance to stab him right in the gut. Veil aims her gun towards another and the power infused within the rifle is enough to make her target go flying backwards.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this!”, Dae tells her. “Go get that box for us.”

At the same time, the two elementalists attune themselves to different elements – Sieran links her mind with the earth, while Sov lets the winds surround her.  
The sylvari places her hands on the wall she created and then uses all her strength to slice it up into pieces, which she then launches like projectiles towards anyone that stands on the other side.  
Immediately after the path is clear, Sov darts forward, jumping over any of their fallen enemies. Along the way, she crafts a spear made of lightning. As one of their foes gets in her path, she tosses this magical creation straight into their chest, taking them out of the fight.

The majority of the separatists tries to focus on the team, but these four fighters are an overwhelming force. Katla and Veil are especially difficult to handle, as the power behind their weapons and magic is severe.  
In the meantime, Trillia escapes the camp with the artifact box in her hands, followed by two lackeys. The camp leader seems to know exactly where she has to run, getting behind rocks and trees in order to obscure the line of sight.

After running for only a few minutes, Trillia orders her two followers to create a distraction, which forces Sov to stop and deal with them, while the mesmer continues. The last thing Trillia spots over her shoulder is how Sov just barely avoids the slash of a sword, before she leaps backwards and summons an elemental made of earth. It would be amusing to watch this battle, but there’s no time for it. The artifact must be secured, at all costs.

Trillia continues to run, ignoring any shouts or noises from the chaos behind her, desperately wanting to get out of view. If she can only gain enough distance, she can use her own magic to hide for a while, which would likely confuse her pursuers.  
She keeps sprinting for a few minutes, making herself rather tired, but as she is not interrupted at any point and notice no one behind her, she eventually believes she has escaped.

That is of course where she’s wrong. As she stops to catch her breath, she suddenly hears sparks of lightning on the other side of the hill she’s leaning against. The electric charge comes bursting out from behind the corner and then halts a few meters away. In that section, it transforms and reveals the shape of Sovica once more, sliding on the ground and maintaining her balance rather elegantly. She stops in a kneeling position before the leader, her cloak swaying in the wind and displays a fierce glare.

“Didn’t think you’d get away that easily, did you?”

The elementalist isn’t entirely unscathed, however, as she does have a bleeding wound on her arm and she also seem to be almost as out of breath as Trillia. That lets the mesmer know she has a chance.  
“You don’t honestly believe you can defeat me with your paltry magic, do you?!”

Magical lights appear in Trillia’s hand, which shimmer and sound like clinking glass. As she clenches her hands around them, two shapes materialize next to her – they both look like exact copies of Trillia. All three carry a version of the artifact box and when they run around each other, it becomes difficult to keep track of who exactly is the real one.  
Sov hasn’t fought all too many mesmers in her life, but she’s not completely inexperienced. This one appears to be more overconfident than skilled anyhow. It makes her smirk.

“Actually, I think I can.”

Sov infuses her feet with some type of spell, touches the earth for a moment and then jumps up. When she falls back down, her stomp sends out a shockwave which affects the ground in a several meter radius. It doesn’t damage the mesmer or her clones much, but it does make them all get knocked off their feet and drop to the ground. When the boxes fall with them, only the real one makes a clattering noise, which is easily distinguishable.

“You mesmers are always too conceited.”

Sov attempts to advance towards her goal, but she oversteps her bounds. Violet lights suddenly appear from all three Trillia and beams erupt within their grasps, which hit and pierce Sov’s body. She groans in pain, feeling not just how her chest starts to hurt, but her head too. Her mind gets infected by whatever it is that Trillia emits, which is not something that she can sustain for long and Sov is forced to retreat behind a nearby rock.

“And you elementalists are inadequate in our presence. I would love to shatter your mind completely, little Vlasic, but I have other business to deal with. Have fun with my clones in the meantime.”

She summons another two, which probably drains quite a bit of stamina and mental capacity, but Trillia obviously has no interest in a continued fight. Instead, she grabs the box from the ground and intends to escape once more.  
Sov realizes that she can’t linger here. A continuous chase and an eventual end where she loses track of her foe is not an option. At some point, Trillia will probably try to hide and it will be far too difficult to locate her.

Realizing how drastic measures must be taken, Sov uses the earth to summon forth a shield, which she imbues with energies to protect herself with against the clone’s beams. She removes all other aspects, so that its defenses are sturdy enough.  
Once she leaps out again, she runs straight into the open, letting the shield take every hit and slowly get drained away, but it’s all for a specific purpose.

Calling for the wind’s help to give her some speed once more, she launches herself forward, too quickly for any of the clones to react. Unfortunately, it’s also too swift for Sov to have any control over it.  
She crashes into Trillia, making them both hurtle to the ground. In the process, the mesmer drops the container and it bounces away. The clones shatter in the process.

As they see the item several meters away, both try to get up and capture it. Trillia is in the lead to begin with, but Sov aims for her legs and kicks the mesmer, making her lose her footing and fall over. Unfortunately, when Sov tries to run past her, Trillia grabs her foot and drags her down as well, leaving them both in a joint messy heap. This turns from a running contest, to a brawl. They wrestle, kick and punch each other, rolling around among the dirt and grime.

Thankfully, Sov has a little bit more experience than Trillia with physical combat and after punching the other human in the cheek, Sov resumes her previous route and finally reaches the box.  
Trillia is not about to give up, though, and when Sov has her back turned, the mesmer pokes a hand in underneath her clothes, pulling out a small knife. She tosses it at the elementalist and hits her in the leg. Sov emits a pained shout, before she falls to her knees.

With Sov unable to stand, Trillia rises on her own and glares at her opponent with disappointment.  
“You are a pathetic excuse for an Ascalonian.”

Sov spits and pulls out the knife from her leg with a groan. She may be at a slight disadvantage, but she will not give up on her defiance.  
“And that’s coming from you? I actually care about our people, while you only want vengeance."

Trillia creates two more clones and slowly advances.  
“I hope your family in Kryta won’t be too devastated when you’re sent home with a shattered sanity. That will at least show them not to get in our way.”

if that is supposed to make her afraid, it’s not working. Sov will fight to the last and she prepares to craft another elemental out of the materials around her, no matter how tiring it might be.  
Luckily, she won’t have to go that far, as they hear a shout from behind.  
“Sovi!”, Dae calls out and both of them can see the sylvari standing up on a nearby hill. “You leave her alone, dammit!”

“Shit”, says Trillia. “Where in the Mists did she come from? My team can’t already have-“

Whatever she hoped to express, it is interrupted when she hears some cracking sounds and soon enough, an array of rocks fired by Sov pierces one of her clones, destroying it on the spot.  
Trillia wants to fight, but as Dae leaps down to their level, the sylvari uses her swords to attack from the other flank. She charges and cuts one of the Trillias open…which turns out being the second clone.

Seeing how she doesn’t stand much chance fighting both of them, Trillia grits her teeth in anger and stares at Sov one last time.  
“This isn’t over, Vlasic. We _will_ succeed one day.”

Using what energy she has left, Trillia summons a portal which she disappears into, teleporting herself out of this region. It’s hard to tell where she might’ve went. Sov isn’t knowledgeable enough regarding such skills to know exactly how they function.  
Dae is ready to jump in after her, as the portal remains for a few seconds, but Sov stretches out a hand.  
“Wait! Let her go, Dae. She lost, and we don’t need her. She won’t be able to run forever anyway.  
We have to take the Claw back to the camp and…well, my leg kinda hurts.”

Dae gazes at the portal, seeming disappointed, but after she has lingered for too long, it eventually disperses.  
“Dammit. Fine.”  
She turns to survey her girlfriend and immediately notices the blood on her leg and arm.  
“Are you okay?”

“I am, but I need to find some water, so I can stop the bleeding.”  
Dae helps Sov to stand up, but the human ends up resting against the sylvari’s chest, due to the pain in her leg.  
“And maybe you can carry the box back to Katla, while I lean on you?”

This produces a smile from Dae, who wraps her arm around Sov’s waist.  
“Oh, gladly. Always ready to support you, darling.”

Sov mirrors this expression and kisses her girlfriend’s cheek.  
“I know you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I do like to describe elementalist stuff with Sovica. I can't recall her using all that much air attunement in the past, so we had some of that now._   
> 


	15. Blazing in winter's shadow

Through shadowed roads and unmarked territory, under sheltering trees and past large hills, they march, advancing with some measure of subtlety. Swords, axes, maces, rifles, torches – many weapons are being prepared for usage, once the inevitable clash commences. Everyone must be ready to spill their blood for the cause of the Flame Legion.  
Occasionally, a few of them lag behind, being tired after the long walk without a break. That is not something that their commander, Centurion Aivel, can accept.

“Hey, you four back there! Don’t think I haven’t noticed your laziness! Move up to the front, you maggots! On the double!”

The increasing fatigue is quite difficult to deal with right now, but it does not manage to surpass the fear. When a shaman speaks, you listen.  
The four soldiers that were falling behind immediately pick up the pace and approach his location. As they do, they observe more of his appearance, seeing the brown and white fur, the heavy armor mixed with pieces of cloth, one being a long and open skirt with decorative symbols depicting blazing birds. He wields a heavy shield on his back, a sword in his belt and a magical medallion hangs around his neck. His two horns aren’t very large and curls backwards, but his sharp yellow eyes can bore into you rather fiercely.

“What uh…what can we do for you, sir?”

Aivel has stopped and surveys the small group, which seems to be members from different warbands.  
“What do you think you’re doing, huh? You wanna slow us all down, get us away from our mission?”

The allusions to treachery is of course not something they feel comfortable with, nor should anyone. That is often not met with favorable reactions.  
“N-no, Centurion”, one of them insists. “We…we’re just a bit tired, sir.”

“Yeah, we’ve been marching for a whole day now. I think everyone feels they need some rest”, says another.

Aivel isn’t completely unsympathetic to such words, as he would likely feel the same if he had not put some enchantments on his body earlier, to augment his stamina. As a warrior and a shaman, he must be prepared for anything.  
“That may be true, but we don’t have time”, he tells them. “The peace summit is nearby, and we need to strike it as soon as possible. We’re already late and we can’t allow them to prepare for our arrival. You’ll have to suck it up and get some rest later, when we feast in the remains of their scorched camp.”

All of them look disappointed, but they swallow any comments.  
“Yes sir.”

After he’s done, Aivel turns around and continues his stride, but raises his voice so that more people can hear what he has to say.  
“We should be getting close now and all of you have to be ready for the assault. Me and the rest of our shamans will start off by bombarding the place, to soften ‘em up before we take care of survivors. Divide yourselves through the warbands and get into position. Stand by and wait for my command.”

“Sir, yes sir! We’ll be ready to-“

Before this charr can respond, another warrior suddenly interrupts with a shout.  
“Centurion! There’s…there’s an incoming attack!”

Aivel furrows his brow and immediately looks towards the camp, rather than the voice.  
“Huh? What are you-“

Suddenly, the front row of the Flame Legion forces that walk upon a field with snow, small barren bushes and the occasional rocks, erupt in fire and fumes, as a whole volley of explosives is sent in their path. Some are killed almost instantly, others are severely injured, get caught on fire or desperately attempt to flee. Chaos quickly permeates the area, as this was not what they had expected.  
“Dammit!”, Aivel exclaims. “Quickly, take cover!”

A lot of them listen to his voice, but due to the overwhelming noise of the destruction around them, it’s not easy for all soldiers to hear him. A few try to charge ahead, to face their foes head on, wherever they’re hiding, which means they unfortunately walk straight into the second trap – a minefield. Even further explosions tear the Flame troops apart, filling the field with blood, discarded metal and scorched fur. The scents of burnt flesh, smoke and grease surges through the area.

On the other side, members of the Blood Legion step out from their hiding spots behind ditches, rocks and trees. The foremost of these is of course the tall and large Centurion Cragthea Slagmarrow, who holds a big steel shield in one paw and a spiky mace in the other. She slams the weapons against one another in anticipation, while she grins. Shortly after, she raises her voice to be heard by her subordinates.  
“Soldiers! Let’s give Flame a traditional warm Blood welcome, shall we? Charge! _For the High Legions!”_

The other charr let out roars and battle cries, as they brandish their various weapons, both for close combat and ranged fighting. They aren’t as numerous, but because Flame has lost quite a few people and due to how experienced Blood troops are with open battlefields, they aren’t afraid.  
Rytlock moves together with the rest, but tries to stay in the back, partially based on advice from his officers. For now, he lets the Centurion take charge of this battle, as she is the chief of security here anyhow. He’s also aware of how capable she is.

Crag has never been one to shy away from combat. As soon as the first Blood Legion soldiers rush ahead, she follows them, preparing her body and weapons for the clash that’s about to come.  
She lands in the middle of some Flame Legion troops, bashes her shield into the head of one, slams her mace into another and then headbutts a third, bringing down all three rather swiftly. As they fall to the ground, either injured or unconscious, she tilts her head back and laughs heartily, seemingly having a great time.

Further back, Razok stands with his bag in his paws, currently trying to pull out some of his gear. He watches his sister and shakes his head.  
“I’ll just never get that side of her. Whenever she’s on the battlefield, she goes nuts. The more she hates the enemies we face, the more entertaining, apparently.”

Rea stands nearby, bow in her hand, and she smiles at her friend.  
“What’s wrong with enjoying a good scrap? Battle and hunting are what’s exciting in life! You never feel alive quite as much as when you’re fighting for survival.”

Ovillus snorts and rolls his eyes.  
“Norn. You are entitled to your opinion, of course, but if it makes no difference to you, I believe I shall remain in this relatively secure location instead.”

It’s not that they are outside of any dangerous areas, of course. In fact, Blood Bond was assigned to guard one section of the Blood Legion’s defenses on their own, as it appears Crag trusts them that much. Naturally, they don’t wish to disappoint.  
Raz quickly places his turrets in a few holes within the earth that he prepared earlier, nestled between twigs and stone, which gives them a good angle, while also being difficult to hit. They are somewhat further away from their enemies than what he’s used to, but with Ovillus new calibrations, the automated weapons cause quite a bit of havoc among their foes anyhow.

Ovillus himself has to gather some materials. While some of their enemies aren’t watching, he places necromantic traps along the road towards them. As soon as anyone steps on them, they are flooded with dark magic, filled with hungry locust and angry spirits that haunt the poor souls.  
Once a few charr have fallen, he makes sure to utilize the remains, drawing the blood and bones to him, in order to create an aura and erect a bone wall in front of him. This partially protects them against arrows, magic and other distant projectiles.

At the same time, Rea tries to provide a bit of sniping of her own. She has jumped on top of a tall boulder, which does make her into a potential target, but not a harmless one. Arrow after arrow leaves her hands, piercing gaps in armor, especially the legs, abdomen and neck.  
If anyone gets too close to her position, they’re met by the large and angry Grawdr, who pounces on them and isn’t afraid to dig his fangs into their necks. He even takes a chunk out of a few, to alleviate his hunger.

In the middle of the field, Crag glances around, seeming thoroughly pleased with the progress in this first section of the fight. Blood warbands are undoubtedly taking the lead and they’re holding Flame at bay.  
The shamans do cause some damage, which is difficult to ignore. Had Crag allowed the Vigil to help them, this fight would’ve been much easier, but she decided to decline the offer. This land belongs to the High Legions and they prefer to fight their own battles, at least as far as Blood is concerned. They don’t need others to defeat Flame anyway.  
Even if some foes slip through their defensive line, Crag can spot Rytlock a few hundred meters behind her, eagerly intercepting these individual and carving them up with Sohothin. His abilities are not only impressive, but quite demoralizing for the enemy.

Her confidence boost is cut short by the sound of some charr growling and screaming in pain from a position not too far away. She turns around and sees how a small Blood warband is torn apart and burnt alive by one single Flame soldier. He stabs his sword into one, envelops another with fire and then enchants his blade to send a shockwave of inferno against two more.  
Crag furrows her brow, growls, lowers her ears and instinctively bares her fangs, as she realizes that this must be their commander, who’s now joining his troops.

He raises his sword and points at the camp.  
“Soldiers of the Flame Legion, stand tall and do not fear Blood’s meagre tactics! Push hard enough and they bend just like any foe.  
Shamans, prepare a firestorm ritual and turn these mangy gnats into dust! Show them what it means to defy our will!”

While his troops begin to move, both he and Crag seem to sense each other across the battlefield and he swirls around to face her. Their eyes meet and for a few moments, the wind almost seems to stand still around them. They both sense the strength and commanding presence behind their respective auras.  
“If you think your little sparks will be enough, you’re wrong”, she tells him.

He sneers at her, while tightening the grip around his blade.  
“I am Centurion Aivel Skyrender and I’ll enjoy seeing you burn.”

“Heh, another Centurion, huh? The name’s Cragthea Slagmarrow. Show me what you got, shaman.”

Seeing no need to delay it, they immediately advance on each other, ignoring anyone else. Those who get in their path are either cut down or knocked aside.  
Aivel pulls out his shield, but also summons fire in his paw, as an initial strike. Unfortunately, when he lobs it towards her, Crag infuses her shield with a Guardian spell that glistens in the sun and the fire simply bounces away from her.

Aivel snarls.  
“Gah, Guardian filth.”

Crag grins.  
“You thought it’d be that easy, huh? If you think that's impressive, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He hears her voice better now and watches her stance, which brings more disapproval to his expression.  
“And a female as well? Blood always acts with such weakness!”

She merely laughs in his face.  
“Oh, I love it when they get arrogant! C’mere! Let me cut open that ugly snout o’ yers.”

He enchants his blade with more fire and slams it into her shield, but she deflects it again.  
“We’ll see how confident you and your troops get, when I carve you up and mount your head on a flaming pike!”

“Hah! Bring it on, cub! Come break yourself against me!”

“I won’t even need my spells to eliminate a nobody like you!”

In the distance, Raz’s eyes are being drawn to the shouting of his sister, seeing how she fights the Flame leader and he gets worried. He doesn’t want to be, shouldn’t really have to, but can’t help it. She is important to him and he values her life. He grabs his rifle and even though they’re supposed to guard this specific area, he makes sure to watch out for flankers against Crag, just in case. They always have some trick up their sleeves.

The two leaders keep brawling in the center of the field, shields and weapons colliding over and over. They go back and forth, switching roles of who delivers and absorbs damage. The whole encounter is pervaded with growls, roars, baring of fangs and whipping of tails.  
They are both obviously rather talented and the clash draws a lot of attention from across the battle, as both Blood and Flame occasionally glance in that direction, to see how things turn out. Whoever wins may be able to shatter the morale of the opposite side.

Fortunately, the duel is slowly starting to shift in Crag’s favor. Not only is she larger and physically stronger, but more experienced too. They seem to be of a similar age, but she has more conquests on her record. His physical abilities are simply not enough to match.  
Eventually, after taking a hard hit against his nose, but before getting impaled by the spikes of the mace, he takes a step back and throws his weapons away.

“Bah! You think I need these mere corporeal tools to kill you?! Face the true might of the Flame Legion, cur!”

He grabs the medallion hanging around his neck, puts it between his claws and crushes it. Whatever was hiding inside of it suddenly erupts and flames bursts out, which he captures with his magical talents and enhances himself with. These fires blaze not just in the typical red, but are infused with shades of violet and black. They envelop him like an aura, focusing on his paws, tail, eyes and mane. A wave of heat washes over Crag shortly after and she has to grit her fangs, while blocking it with her shield.

As a preemptive measure, Crag stomps the ground and quickly draws a magical protective rune, which enhances the area she stands around with a small barrier. This is quite fortunate, as streams of scorching flames are launched towards her, practically pushing her backwards. He is not an easy target to deal with and he will not be dismissed.  
However, if he believed that this would be a simple end, he’s obviously mistaken too. Crag has always been more of a defensive fighter, as the name of her style would suggest, being able to guard herself against most attacks, especially magic. Her plan is simple – hold out until his magical prowess is depleted. She is confident that her stamina can outlive his.

Sadly, Aivel has no intentions of waiting that long. While he sprays her with flames, he glances around, seeing more nearby soldiers.  
“Troops, assist me! Destroy this female and show Blood our strength!”

They follow his commands and Crag can soon spot several Flame soldiers closing in on her position from different angles. She can definitely shield herself against attacks from two, maybe even three directions, but five? She has to make a choice – fight them or the fire.

Or that’s what she assumes, at least. Her uncertainty is quickly dispersed, as she and the rest hear a gunshot being fired, one that pierces the head of a Flame trooper. He gets knocked back and falls to the ground. Before they manage to completely turn and reinforce their defenses, another one gets shot in the chest.  
“You stay away from my sister, you cowardly cinders!”

Raz has joined the fight, keeping his rifle steady in his paws, while preparing the engineering gear around his belt for usage. Crag grins at the sight.  
“Hah! You show ‘em, Raz!”

Aivel had obviously not expected that anyone would reach them in time and he quickly grows annoyed. He considers hurling his magic in the direction of this nuisance, but such thoughts are foolish. He never gets the chance.  
While he’s somewhat distracted, Crag uses that weakness to infuse her shield with more energy and charges in, pushing his flames aside. He doesn’t notice this development until it’s too late and just when he’s about to shoot another spell in her face, she tackles him, bashes her shield into his snout and then digs the mace straight into his chest, breaking a few ribs in the process.

Tilting her head backwards, Crag knocks him to the ground with a sturdy headbutt aided by her horns. It’s so fierce that Aivel faceplants the burnt soil beneath him.  
After emitting a dazed groan, he tries to roll onto his back and fire a desperate spell up at his attacker, but she stomps it to the ground. She then looks down at him with glee.  
“When you get to the Mists, say hello to your gods for me.”  
Without hesitation, she crushes his head into a gory mess with the mace.

The sight and smell of blood, fire and death reaches her eyes and nose, all of it strengthened by the adrenaline. She bends her head back, opens her maw and gives off a victorious roar, which echoes over the battlefield.  
Shortly after it’s over and while she breathes heavily, she pulls out the mace from his skull and turns to see how her brother is doing. Luckily, his fight is over as well, but Raz doesn’t stand alone – Rytlock has joined him, with Sohothin practically gleaming in delight over the destruction it has wrought.

Rytlock displays a small smile and nods.  
“Well done, Centurion. That should scare these embers back to their holes.”

“Always happy to do the deed, sir.”

Raz, on the other hand, looks quite excited.  
“Did you see that first shot, Crag? Got ‘im right between the eyes! Haven’t had one like that in a while.”

Crag laughs almost as loudly as she did before and moves up to her brother, so that she can embrace him.  
“I saw it, Raz. Gotten good at shootin’ since we last met! Proud of ya, brother.”

Rytlock nods in agreement when he views the two of them.  
“Knew that having both of Centra’s cubs out here would be beneficial. Let’s mop up the rest of these bastards, so we can get to our victory feast later.”


	16. Depths of peace

The news about the battle against the Flame Legion has quickly reached the entirety of the camp around the summit, along with the results. While the Vigil and the charr who didn’t fight were both relieved at the victory, the humans had somewhat mixed reactions. They were of course pleased that the threat had passed, but also upset that they weren’t told more details before the entire scenario occurred. They felt excluded from the conversation, which perhaps wasn’t an entirely unfair conclusion.

The day after the victory, Rea, Ovillus and Razok all headed towards the human side, and while there were some initial protests regarding the engineer’s presence, he was allowed passage when their connections were established.  
Currently, the trio is located in the tent with the two military leaders – Vanguard Captain Careth and Seraph Lieutenant Amera. Just like previous days, both of them appear quite worried, for similar reasons.

Careth paces around the tent, with an agitated look on his face. His eyes don’t meet anyone as he shakes his head.  
“I knew it. I knew this would be foolish. We should’ve sent more troops with them.”

While Amera stands in the center of the area, both Ovillus and Razok are sitting on chairs, and Rea is resting on the edge of a table. She smiles at the Captain and shrugs.  
“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

He stops and abruptly turns to her, with a slight frown on his brow.  
“Fine? You don’t even know how many of these traitors are out there!”

“Tsk, you don’t know my sister, Captain. It won’t matter how many troops they have – she’ll win. She always does.”

In contrast with Careth’s behavior, Amera is more nervous. She fidgets somewhat with her gloves and keeps her eyes on the ground.  
“Hmm, I wonder. Maybe we should’ve at least sent out a search party? Could reduce the risks.”

“Bah, it’s not necessary”, Raz insists. He’s currently sitting with a pair of utility goggles on the table and his tools in his paws, which he has used to open them up and modify their interior.  
“They’ll be back soon. Trust me.”

“We don’t know that for sure, though. Not that I mistrust them, but if Lady Sovica doesn’t come back safely…” She awkwardly clears her throat. “Well, I don’t look forward to the conversation I’ll have to set up with Baroness Zodwa.”

Careth waves his hand dismissively.  
“The Baroness’ feelings and your state doesn’t matter, Lieutenant! What matters is the Claw. If we don’t get it back, peace may be impossible. The charr will never agree to anything without it.”

Raz sighs and puts some of his tools down.  
“Calm down, will ya? Not only do they have Sovi and Katla out there – who are both pretty damn good fighters, by the way – but three very capable sylvari too. If you think that a few puny humans can defeat ‘em all, you’re both idiots. I mean, two of them are Magisters of the Priory!”

Suddenly, they hear a voice from the entrance of the tent.  
“Good to hear that some people have faith in us.”

As those inside turn towards it, they witness how another group enters – Katla carries the box holding the Claw using only one arm, while Sovica is being supported by Daeynwe to walk. Veilidh and Sieran are both nearby, backing Blood Bond up where needed.  
Rea’s expression quickly changes into a bright smile.  
“Hah, there you are! About time you showed up.”

She pushes herself from the table and hurries up to Katla, offering her a tight embrace. Her sister sighs as it happens.  
“Hey, be careful. I’m holding the important charr artifact...thing.”

Rea merely giggles and pokes her shoulder playfully.  
“Then hold tighter, you dummy, so I can hug you!”

“…your priorities are weird.”

Ovillus was sitting and reading one of the books that the humans had brought, but he closes and puts it on the nearby table now.  
“Ah, it is magnificent to witness your impeccable timing. You couldn’t have arrived at a more suitable moment, as we were just debating additional measures.”

Dae snorts.  
“What, like we couldn’t handle this alone? It was super easy! Could’ve done it blindfolded if we wanted to! I’ve fought Nightmare courtiers that were harder.”

Veil views her little sister quite skeptically.  
“…don’t lie, Petal. You haven’t fought any courtiers.”

After releasing a slight laughter, Raz walks up to Sov.  
“Good to see you’re all alive, at least. How’re you doing, Vlasic?” He eyes her pose, especially since she can’t stand on her own. “You okay? Looks like you got into a bit of a scrap, huh?”

Sov smiles and raises a hand to pat his arm.  
“We faced some difficulties, yes. I’ve closed the wounds, but haven’t had much time to rest yet. It still hurts a bit, but I’ll be fine.”

He helps Dae with leading Sov to the chair he was using, so she can sit down.  
In the meantime, Rea glances at her sister curiously.  
“So, did you take on all the humans on your own?”

Katla rolls her eyes.  
“Obviously not, since Sovica is injured. The rest insisted on fighting as well.”

With her arms now free, Dae plants her hands on her hips and smirks at Katla.  
“Oh, pff! Don’t pretend you could do it on your own, you big clumsy bear!”

“I could.”

“Lies!”

Sieran remains close to the entrance, not too far from her fellow Magister and smiles at the tallest norn.  
“Your techniques were certainly impressive. I’ve met few Guardians with such an overwhelming attack force! Norn really are splendid fighters, aren’t they?”

“That’s my sister, alright”, says Rea.

Veil looks towards Careth and Amera, while she points her thumb at an area behind her.  
“We brought some prisoners with us from the separatist camp. We left them to your Vanguard troops outside.”

Careth bows his head in thanks.  
“You’ve got the gratitude of the Vanguard for that. I’ll be sure to interrogate all these traitors myself and see that they get some nice cozy cells when we get back.”

Not wanting to be kept out of the conversation, Amera approaches the table where the noblewoman is sitting.  
“Erm, is there anything the Seraph can do for you, lady Sovica? I can ask a healer to come here, if you prefer.”

Sov raises a hand and shakes her head.  
“That’s alright, I’ll manage, Lieutenant. I only need some rest. And if I want comfort, I have my girlfriend.”

Dae nods eagerly.  
“Totally my best skill.”

Amera inclines her head, but her uncertainty does not yet leave her.  
“Well, I…I hope the damage you took will not anger Baroness Zodwa. We only followed your orders.”

The statement is a bit strange to Sov, who arches her brow confusedly at first, before she offers a small smile.  
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant, my mother would never be that crude. You might get a very sternly written letter at some point, though.”

“…I’ll thank her for the mercy, in that case.”

Now that their safety has been assessed, Careth turns to Katla and gestures at the second table in the room.  
“Hey, could you put the Claw down? I wanna make sure that nothing was damaged.”

Katla does as he asks and when they open the box, it appears that the weapon is still intact. There are a few scratches, but hardly noticeable. It seems this is quite a sturdy weapon, after all.  
“Huh. Never been this close to it”, says Raz, with a mild sense of awe in his voice. “Can’t believe this is what the Khan-Ur used, all those centuries ago…”

Careth furrows his brow and lifts a hand to stroke his cheeks.  
“I wonder if this will be enough to remedy the situation, though. It was already tense before, but now it might be absolutely critical.”

As she leans back in her chair, Sov turns quite a serious gaze towards the Captain.  
“That might be true, but we have to try. Just because the first attempt wasn’t great, that doesn’t mean we should give up on peace.”

Amera directs her attention towards the only charr in the room.  
“What’s the situation among your people? What are they thinking?”

The engineer shrugs in response.  
“Can’t say it’s completely fine, I guess. There has been quite a bit of grumbling all around. Rytlock is still willing to negotiate, I think, and Crag was just happy that she got to fight with the Flame Legion, but it’s more difficult for others.  
If anyone were to ask me whether the Legions wanna break the peace or not, I’d put it on 50/50 right now. They probably need to see that you humans are ready to make an effort.”

Careth sighs and taps a finger on his cheek.  
“Yeah, it’s probably the same over here. Even I’m kinda skeptical if it can really be done.  
Earlier, it was pretty much entirely kept together because of Baron Lartus’ presence. Not only did he promise peace, but that we’d get a good deal out of this. Now that he’s gone, I’m not sure anyone is willing to fight for it.”

They aren’t entirely surprised that he would say this. During the meeting, he was of course one of those who showed quite a bit of distrust. The fact that it was humans, traitors, who stole the Claw and aided with the Baron's demise, apparently affected him quite heavily.  
Sov furrows her brow and crosses her arms.  
“Captain, I have read much about the history of Ascalon and its people, and nowhere in all those texts did it say that Ascalonians give up so easily.”

When he hears it, Careth clears his throat and straightens his back.  
“Hey, I’m no quitter”, he says and then hesitates, “…but I’m also not a negotiator. I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.”

“Don’t you think it’s still worth a try?”

“Sure, but how? We have no suitable representative anymore. Due to the Baron’s long experience, no replacement was offered from Kryta and I doubt Commander Samuelsson is going to come down here himself – he doesn’t know much about politics to begin with. We have no one else who can take Lartus’ place.”  
Careth exhales through his nose and places his hands on the table.  
“We’ll have to contact Queen Jennah. Perhaps we can receive another diplomat from Divinity’s Reach, but that might take a few weeks to set up.”

Raz looks at him with a highly doubtful gaze.  
“A few weeks? My people won’t wanna wait that long. They like quick results and waiting around will be seen as stalling. After all this stuff with traitors, the other officers might assume that an attack is coming.”

Silence soon fills the room, as no one has any appropriate answers here. What other alternatives are available? Neither Careth, nor Amera seem capable, and there aren’t any other nobles around. Except for one, that is.  
Sov frowns in thought, trying to weigh every angle. She doesn’t particularly like where this is going, that hope is so quickly slipping out of their grasps, but does she really have a solution? Well…maybe she does.

She takes a moment to breathe in and out, to calm her emotions, before she speaks.  
“I can do it.”

Every other person in the room turns around to face her, most of them looking mildly surprised.  
“…pardon?”, Careth asks.

“I can act as the human delegate.”

The first to show signs of positivity is Dae, who starts to grin.  
“Oh, yes! This is a great idea!”

Most of the others aren’t all that surprised she would say this, as she doesn’t really understand how this process is supposed to work.  
“But…but you’re not an official diplomat either, are you?”, asks Careth.

Sov shakes her head.  
“I’m not, and neither do I have all of the necessary training, but I belong to an honored family, one that is well-known to both humans and charr.  
Plus, my mother is a member of the Krytan Ministry and I have gone through various lessons about etiquette, history and political theory. I know the basics, probably better than most of your soldiers.”

“Hmm, I dunno.”

While he remains skeptical, the others are starting to turn in her favor.  
“Hey, I like it”, says Rea. “You should do it, Sovi. You’ve always been good at talking.”

“Indeed. Your oral capabilities are only outmatched by your scholarly aptitude”, Ovillus concurs. “Though, not as stupendous as my own, of course.”

Veil smiles at her too.  
“You’ll get no argument from us. If you need the support of the Priory, Sieran and I are happy to assist.”

“I can carry the Claw for you”, Katla tells her. “It’s not that heavy.”

Amera straightens her stance and salutes.  
“As the top Seraph officer in this region, I offer to escort you to the tent when it’s time to leave, my lady.”

Sov smiles not just at her, but the rest of the group too.  
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am pleased to have your support; the support from all of you.”

This seemed like a fine conclusion, but Dae pouts and folds her arms.  
“Hey, you’re my girlfriend! I want to escort you!”

It makes Sov giggle and she grabs Dae’s arm, to pull her down, so that she can plant a kiss on the sylvari’s cheek.  
“You can both escort me, dear.”

Seeing how he appears to be quite outnumbered in this occasion, Careth raises his arms in defeat.  
“Still don’t know if I believe this will help, but you’re probably our best hope. I guess we’ll go whenever you think you’re ready, lady Sovica.”

“Thank you, Captain. Give me a few hours to rest and I should be fully prepared.  
Raz, maybe you can talk Rytlock into giving you a seat around the table too.”

The engineer grins.  
“Hah, to keep the Legion at bay, ya mean? I’ll see what I can do.”

Dae moves over to her girlfriend and places both hands around the elementalist’s cheeks, leans down and kisses her lovingly.  
“Never thought we’d get to be so important one day, but this is…well, cherry!”

Sieran gasps.  
“Hey, don’t steal my line!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah, that's right - Sovica the diplomat! This was always part of the plan for this story. Actually, it was kinda the whole point._   
>  _They became somewhat famous among sections of the High Legions for saving Folly's Breach, but now that will spread into even more circles, for helping to save the peace negotiations._


	17. In Kormir's name

Parallels and repetition. Once more, the trumpets are sounded in the outskirts of the camp, joined by the marching of soldiers. The chairs are put up in their right positions, giving both audience and delegates the room that they require. The banners flicker in the wind, the scribes prepare the tools they will use to record the event and braziers are lit to herald the beginning. It feels as if they are reliving the same moment as before, and yet there are some clear differences.

As the humans and charr gather in the central tent of the peace summit yet again, snow trickles down from the sky. While the intention is to resume where they left off, nothing is the same. The aura surrounding the area is much more solemn, perhaps even strained. There is apprehension in the air, which is unavoidable at this stage, but at least some of the previous suspicion has been alleviated by the circumstances. There are other hurdles to overcome now.

The restlessness of some charr was soothed by the battle against the Flame Legion, and any anger they felt regarding meeting with humans is pacified due to preceding mistakes. It did not pass them by that charr were the ones who killed the Baron, the human representative.  
While some humans were, and still are, outraged by this incident, this emotion is somewhat tempered by the fact that they were not above foul play either. The precious artifact that they offered to the charr was stolen by human traitors, making them break their promised deal. Their honor was stained in the process.

Thanks to these facts, prior misgivings now look a bit different. When everyone who is allowed to be here get to their seats, the situation is…slightly uncomfortable at most. Some aren’t quite sure how to react.  
The Vigil chooses to take the position of mediators once more, stepping in between and proposes that they assist with the matter of initiating talks. No one protests.

Just like before, it is Warmaster Efut who approaches the tables in the center with her arms behind her back, dressed in full armor. This time, everyone else is already quiet.  
“Well then, I suppose it’s time. Despite the unfortunate outcome of our first gathering, both sides have agreed to make another attempt. Therefore, members of the High Legions and the nations of Kryta and Ebonhawke, I welcome you once more to the first official peace meeting. My name is, as you all probably know by now, Warmaster Efut, and I represent the Vigil.  
Crafting a lasting truce has thus far proved to be quite a problematic concept, but I still believe that we should continue to strive for its success.”

She raises her hands to gesture towards the left side of the tent.  
“Now, let me introduce your delegates. Representing the High Legions is still Tribune Rytlock Brimstone of the Blood Legion, former member of the famed dragon hunter guild Destiny’s Edge.”  
There is some slight applause from the humans as he enters, while the charr salute with their closed paws at their chests.  
“The Tribune is escorted by his chief of security, Centurion Cragthea Slagmarrow. Joining him at the table is Centurion Kerdvina Farsmoker of the Iron Legion, Centurion Viturg Flamepaw of the Ash Legion and Razok Cogfang, advisor from the guild Blood Bond.”

Some of the charr look a bit confused at the last section, but don’t question it directly. Raz smiles as he waves his paw at some of the audience, particularly Ovillus and Rea, who stand in the outskirts.  
After they’ve all wandered inside and sat down, the Warmaster gestures at the opposite end.  
“Due to Baron Lartus’ tragic demise, which the Vigil still mourns alongside his countrymen, a replacement had to be located. Therefore, representing the human nation of Kryta is Lady Sovica Vlasic, heiress to the Broadhollow barony and member of the guild Blood Bond.”  
If some had been surprised at Raz’s inclusion, they’re even more shocked when they hear who took over for Cramon. Not only the humans are familiar with her family’s name, but the charr as well – the actions of a certain member from 250 years ago have been preserved in their history, for being a worthy foe.  
In contrast to Rytlock’s heavy armor, Sovica wanders inside wearing a long-sleeved violet shirt with golden ornamental patterns and a long violet and black skirt. She offers the audience a charming smile and a polite bow of her head.  
“Lady Sovica is escorted by her head of security, Seraph Lieutenant Amera. Joining her at the table is Vanguard Captain Careth, mister Iwaron Lindgress and Daeynwe, advisor from the guild Blood Bond.”

The surprise regarding Sov’s appearance is interrupted by the slight buzz that grows at the sight of Dae walking next to her. They even hear one human speaking up.  
“A sylvari? This is a meeting between humans and charr.”

This is a comment that Sov could’ve easily ignored, but she actually stops before she gets to the table and turns to the assembled humans.  
“Yes, I realize that some of you are likely perplexed by this decision and perhaps even suspicious of Daeynwe, but let me reassure you that she is a sound choice to have as an advisor. Not only is she a member of my guild, which means I trust her, we are also close friends. She would not offer advice that would hurt Kryta or Ebonhawke in any way.”

There are clear signs of skepticism to what she says, but no one directly opposes it. From the opposite table, Rytlock shrugs.  
“Well, we were expecting a talk with humans, but I don’t have anything against sylvari. And besides, after hearing what you all did to get the Claw back, the charr delegation has no complaints.”  
He considers this statement for a moment and then glances at Crag.  
“That sounded official enough, right?”

Crag smirks back at him.  
“Very, sir.”

His comment makes Sov smile at him as well.  
“Thank you for understanding, Tribune.”  
She and her advisors move towards the table, and she allows them to sit down, but Sov herself remains standing.  
“Before we begin, I believe I shall have to address one of the most apparent concerns that a lot of people in this room are likely having, if you don’t mind.”

As Rytlock and his crew are already comfortable in their seats, he offers her a validating wave.  
“I don’t. Go ahead.”

While Efut has moved behind the scenes again, Sov now takes the position in the center that she previously occupied. The noblewoman looks not just at her fellow humans, but the charr as well.  
“I know that there is a lot of tension in here at this time and some of you are likely wondering how this meeting will end.  
First of all, I have to mention that the loss of Baron Lartus has saddened me deeply. He was an accomplished and impressive man, with a long career of understanding diplomacy, trade and peace. Most of all, though, he was a man of principles, one who believed in justice, in kindness and in sincerity. These are ideals that we must all aspire to live up to.”

She temporarily closes her eyes and puts a hand to her chest, displaying a solemn expression during this motion. Eventually, she resumes her previous gaze.  
“For this reason, I tell you, without hesitation, that I do not personally blame the High Legions for this loss. While it is true that a charr weapon fired the shot that ended his life, it was used by a traitor.”  
She redirects her eyes to the other side.  
“And the charr were not alone with being infiltrated by such elements, were they? We were just as tainted, and we broke our word by stealing a priceless artifact right from the hands where it belonged.”

She puts her hands together and begins to slowly pace across the small section in the middle, making her eyes drift back and forth between the two assembled groups.  
“Both of our peoples came here with the intention of creating a lasting peace, of ending the destruction that has occurred between us for too long, perhaps even to forge a future friendship…and we failed.  
I believe that seeking vengeance for either of the crimes committed would not only be wrong and hypocritical, but thoroughly against what the Baron wanted.”

After this is said, she breaks some of the protocols, as she begins to move around the table, wandering behind the charr delegation and continues over to the other side as well, while speaking the entire time.  
“He believed in the purpose of this summit, that we must do everything we can to craft a new future for both humans and charr, and that is a goal I share. It is a prospect worth fighting for.  
The first section of this meeting, in this very tent, showed that none of us are without internal issues and certainly not lacking in flaws…however, we can work on bettering ourselves together.”  
She returns to her previous position in the center and places a closed fist over her chest.  
“It is therefore that I – Sovica of House Vlasic – shall, in the name of Kormir, handle these proceedings with the justice, truth and honor they deserve. To accomplish this goal, I shall provide the same gesture as the Baron offered only days ago. I wish to grant the Legions a gift, to prove our sincerity.”

Sov lifts a hand and waves at someone in the shadows of the room. Instead of the Seraph, the groups see Katla walking towards the table with the box this time, holding the contents which everyone should already be aware of. It almost feels more secure with this norn protecting it; not only is she larger than pretty much everyone in here, she’s also armed with a huge greatsword that is strapped to her back, a fact that she doesn’t hide.

When she places it on the table and opens it up, all the charr take excited breaths, or possibly even in relief, to see it unharmed.  
“Thank you, Katla”, says Sov. “As you can all observe, the weapon has been reclaimed from the thieves who dared to steal it and it is still intact.” She turns towards Rytlock. “As the leader of the charr delegation, I offer the legendary Claw of the Khan-Ur to you, Tribune Brimstone, for your people to preserve.”

Compared to the last occasion, Rytlock actually manages to stand up this time without being attacked and walks over to the surface with the box. Katla steps back, to let him survey the weapon.  
The Tribune places his paws on the table and examines it all, his eyes following its edge, the gemstones and even some minor visible scratches. It doesn’t take him long to snort.  
“Kinda excessive for an ol’ piece of junk, isn’t it?”  
While the humans are shocked by the comment, Crag, Raz and pretty much all other charr begin to laugh. The only human who smiles is Sov and Rytlock turns to face her.  
“I’m not much for speeches, but lemme give it a try. Lady Vlasic, unless my intel was mistaken, you were involved in the mission to salvage the Claw, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then you have the thanks of not just me, but the Legions and probably all charr generations, for getting it back. It means…well, more than humans might ever understand.”

Sovi bows her head, in a respectful fashion.  
“I am simply pleased to have played a part.”

Rytlock now clears his throat and rolls his shoulders in slight discomfort.  
“I know it’s not really in our custom to do this sort of thing, but…after what you pulled off, we can’t really pretend to be unaffected.  
On behalf of the High Legions, I apologize to the nations of Kryta and Ebonhawke, for the death of Baron Lartus. He was a stubborn and kinda slimy old bastard, but he tried his best. This should’ve never happened and we’re gonna make sure it won’t be repeated.”

“If you will let us, we would be glad to help, Tribune.”

He now closes the distance to her, standing so that they appear face to face. He is much larger and taller than her, even dwarfing her somewhat. However, to make sure that everyone sees, he extends his paw to her. A lot of the spectators are astonished to witness this event.  
“Pretty sure this is a human expression, right?”

His comment brightens her mood and she has to do her best to suppress the giggle that wishes to escape her lips. Instead, she smiles and envelops his paw with both of her hands.  
“It is and it’s a very suitable gesture to start our future peace with.”

They shake their paw and hand, sealing this act once and for all. For what has been said and done up until this point, they suddenly receive even louder applause from the gathered humans. The charr, despite some hesitation, soon join them.  
Shortly after this, everyone gets back to their seats. This is only the beginning and others will likely take care of the major details for the peace in the future, but Sov feels an immense sense of pride to be here at this historic moment.

For once, she’s making a difference. Finally, she gets a sliver of comprehension what it might’ve been like to be Miljana.


	18. Winds of ancestors

_Epilogue_

The Fields of Ruin. The name of this location has surely been earned after the inhabitants have put so much focus on antagonism, conquest and destruction. For too many generations, the ownership of it has drifted back and forth, with every step creating further devastation upon their surroundings, no matter who attempted to take it. It appeared to be endless, an unstoppable flood that would engrave the very land with an essence crafted from nothing but carnage. That this notion can finally be challenged feels like a miracle.

A few days have passed since the first attempts at negotiating peace between charr and humans ended. The delegations from either side have gone their separate ways for the time being, returning to their homes.  
The structures around the peace summit have not been removed. In fact, they have purposefully been kept intact for future endeavors, and will continue to be manned by High Legion and Ebonhawke forces. The negotiations are far from over, as there is still much to discuss. However, now that the two groups know that peace can be achieved, they can send back word to their leaders and continue onwards to a brighter future. That is the hope, at least.

While the Seraph and several Vanguard units returned to Ebonhawke, partially to transport Baron Lartus’ body back to Kryta, Blood Bond decided to go off on their own, as they had other plans. On Sovica’s request, the guild chose to visit the Regent Valley monument once more, as the noblewoman wanted to leave some gifts.  
Upon arrival, Sov planted some tree seeds in the outskirts of the area, in honor of Melandru, while she placed a bundle of green-black flowers by the names of her family, known as Grenth’s Lament. She doesn’t know when or if she’ll ever get another chance and therefore saw this as a potential last moment. She does feel a little silly for bringing such finality into the matter, but one never knows.

Currently, her attention is directed towards the plaque which displays the list of names belonging to clan Vlasic, gazing at it with distant eyes. There’s a cold wind in the air which slips into all sorts of gaps and crannies in her clothes, forcing her to pull them closer to protect herself against it. Standing like this for too long is not very wise, but for now, she’s willing to endure the icy nature and the risk of getting sick, if she is allowed to ruminate.

It’s relatively early in the morning, and while several of the others are still asleep or at least in bed, Sov is not the only one who has gotten up. Someone else comes sneaking up from behind, although this woman is not as clever as she may believe. Sov can detect the footsteps closing in on her location in such a way that it easily helps her distinguish the source as Daeynwe.  
Sov has begun to note how her girlfriend travels through this climate, occasionally skipping around in between her normal steps, which sort of gives her away. Or perhaps she’s not giving the sylvari enough credit? Maybe Dae does it on purpose, as a silent signal for Sov. Either way, the human doesn’t mind.

Soon enough, a set of arms dressed in another warm coat slips around her waist, which are followed by the other woman pushing her cheek softly against Sov’s. Shortly after, the elementalist smiles and lifts a hand to caress Dae’s opposite cheek.  
They both close their eyes, giving themselves a chance to enjoy this moment. Dae takes that opportunity to slip a few fingers under Sov’s clothes to touch her belly, while the human’s hand ascends, moving through the leaves of the sylvari’s hair.

“You okay, dear?”, Dae asks in a soft tone.

Sov’s eyes reopen and she nods while she views the plaque.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…thinking about things, that’s all.”

“Like what?”

While she doesn’t want to be too much of a burden, she realizes that her girlfriend is pretty strong, and Sov therefore allows herself to rest further into Dae’s arms. The rogue appears to have no problem holding her for now.  
“Oh, you know…mostly my family's clan and Miljana especially. I wonder how our old hero would feel.”

Dae looks towards the list of names as well, searching through it and finds the one that was mentioned.  
“About the peace, you mean?”

“Yeah. You, me and the guild have been part of something important now, historic even. This could be the beginning of an unbreakable unity between humans and charr for the first time since…well, ever. The days we’ve spent here might be a time that others in the future look back at fondly, as the dawn of change.”  
She exhales through her nose, as uncertainty crawls up over her face.  
“And I’m not sure how these people would feel about that. Most of the names you see here, they all died defending against the charr. They were direct casualties in either the Searing or the subsequent invasion.”

The sylvari listens carefully, nodding to herself, which is a motion that is detected when her cheek brushes against Sov’s.  
“You’ve spoken about this before, when we fought at Folly’s Breach.”

“I know, but back then, we discussed Miljana. I can surmise what she might feel, based on her own writings, but what of all the victims? What would they say regarding this event? Even worse, what would they think of me, knowing I helped it happen? Would they hate me for it?”

Not exactly a subject that every person wakes up and begins their day with, but as Dae has gotten to know her girlfriend, she can only assume that Sov has been pondering it for much longer. In fact, the idea itself makes her remember a certain recent discussion.  
“You’re thinking about what Trillia said, aren’t you?”

Sov offers a faint and somewhat doubtful smile.  
“It’s silly, I know, but…I can’t help it.”

“You shouldn’t, though. She was clearly an idiot, filled with nothing but hate and misery. She wouldn’t-“

“I know, Dae. I’m not saying I’ve changed my mind or anything. I still believe that she was wrong, and that partaking in the peace summit was the right thing to do for several reasons. But…a part of me still fears the consequences.”

“What consequences?”

Sov sighs and takes a moment to think about it, before she shrugs.  
“I dunno. That the ghosts of my ancestors will haunt me?” She groans. “That sounds so stupid to say, but that’s basically where I’m at.”

“You think they’d hate you because you sought peace with their enemies?”

“I…I don’t know and that’s what scares me. I don’t want to fail them, you know? They fought so hard for what they believed in. Their lives were so different from ours and I’m not sure I can ever imagine it. The Ascalon they knew was nothing but dust, bones and wastes.”

Dae gives herself a chance to reflect upon this topic and the idea of their retribution. She watches the names again, scours them, letting herself wonder who they all were. What sort of people would they have been in life and what were their last thoughts? She’ll never know. No one will, because they are not sylvari and their memories are not stored in the Dream. In a way, that’s kind of sad.  
“I kind of want to help you, but I don’t know what advice I can give. I don’t have ancestors and I don’t know if I’ll ever become one. The fact that your people don’t have the Dream is so…strange to me. It must be lonely.”

Without saying anything, Sov slowly spins around in Dae’s arms and looks at her beloved. She places both hands on the sylvari’s cheeks and leans in to kiss her tenderly. Dae can’t help but shut her eyes, as she enjoys the touch immensely. She runs her fingers down Sov’s back, to her hips and over the thighs. Standing this close to each other and be so interwoven is an exhilarating sensation. It’s not quite like the intimacy between sylvari, where emotions are shared in a much more tangible way, but in some senses, these two have somehow managed to gain their own mental link, which is hard to describe or define.

Once their lips part by only a few inches, Sov remains where she is, resting her forehead against her girlfriend’s and practically whispers to her.  
“I don’t need advice or wisdom. The fact that you’re here to support me is enough. This is a topic I’ll have to wrestle with on my own.”

Sov soon rests her head against Dae’s shoulder and the rogue runs a few fingers through the short hair.  
“What will happen when the news reach Kryta?”

Sov takes a deep breath and shrugs.  
“I don’t really know, except for the direct ramifications among my family.”

“They’ll be angry?”

“Well, once my mother hears of what happened, there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll send a message here or even come personally. She’ll probably ask me to go home.”

Dae inclines her head, not being able to ignore this outcome.  
“Guess it was inevitable. We can’t hide forever.  
How do you wanna tackle that? Should we keep going, stop them from finding you?”

“Nah, that’s unnecessary. We might as well try to enjoy the peace and quiet while it persists, rather than fear what’s coming. I love being with you too much to think about running away all the time.”

Hearing these sweet words about her makes Dae smile even brighter and she holds Sov closer.  
“Hmm. Does that mean we might be going to Kryta soon, then?”

“Perhaps, if the rest are okay with that. I don’t want to force anyone to go anywhere.”

“Hey, they can do whatever they want, but no matter what happens, I’ll be with you, Sovi. If the others choose to stay here or travel to some other places in Tyria, then you and me will go to your family together.”

After she opens her eyes, Sov mirrors her girlfriend’s expression and stands up to look at her face.  
“That sounds like a lovely idea to me. I haven’t had a girlfriend this long before and I think my family will be pretty interested, even if they’ll probably doubt you at first.”

“Tsk, they can doubt me as much as they like. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sov gently caresses Dae’s cheek, letting her brown eyes meet with the amber ones of her girlfriend with a pervading affection.  
“I know…my brave little Petal.”

It takes a second for this word to register, but when it does, Dae widens her eyes to begin with, which quickly alters into a narrowed state while she glares.  
“… _no_. We’re not doing this.”

Sov’s gaze begins to glimmer with playfulness and she does her best to suppress a giggle.  
“Do what, blossom?”

“Stop it! You’re not allowed to tease me!”

The human tilts her head to the side and can’t hold back her laughter now. It’s a sweet and melodic sound.  
“Sure I am! Because you’re the cutest woman I know.”

“You know, one day, I’m going to find something that embarrasses you and then you’ll regret everything!”

It appears Sov will not be deterred and she even attempts to tickle her girlfriend, while nudging their noses together.  
“That’s fine with me. I’m not scared of your taunts.”

“Maybe you ought to be.”

Suddenly, Dae puts her hands on Sov’s butt and lifts her up. The human gasps in surprise as she’s carried over to a small stonewall and gently lowered on top of it. Dae separates her girlfriend’s legs somewhat, so that she can stand in between and push herself close.  
“What’re you doing?”

“You haven’t experienced the level of tricks I’m capable of yet.”

Before Sov can respond, she feels how a hand slowly runs up her leg under her skirt and after she breathes in sharply, lust enters her eyes. The intense look she’s getting from Dae tells her that they’re on the same page.  
Sov teasingly brushes her lips over Dae’s, pulling back slightly before they lock.  
“Do your worst”, she whispers.

With a small grin, Dae grabs Sov’s shirt and eagerly pulls the human into a much more passionate kiss than before, with her fingers beginning to grasp and fondle, which sends a warmth through the elementalist’s body.  
“Hope your ancestors won’t mind that I’m going to make you scream my name soon.”

“Tsk, you wish, Petal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And that's the final chapter! For this fic, I mean, not the Blood Bond series as a whole._
> 
> _Anyway, thanks to anyone who has read and/or given kudos on this story. I hope you've enjoyed it!_


End file.
